Demons Within
by LadyWallace
Summary: (Set post 5x5) When one of their dad's old hunting buddies calls for assistance on a hunt, Dean, still going through some issues with Sam, jumps at the chance to get back to work. But is this hunter really on their side, or does he have ulterior motives for calling in the Winchesters for help? Sam whump
1. Chapter 1

**Finally back with a new multi-chap story! This is a S5 one, set after 5x5 "Fallen Idols" after Sam and Dean have gotten back together but still aren't quite working together seamlessly again. Of course, amping up the angst in this fic because there's some things I wish had been addressed in the show like, that voicemail that Dean didn't actually leave and was never talked about again. So yeah, angst. And there will be Sam whump too.**

Demons Within

A Supernatural Fanfic

Chapter One

Sam browsed the aisles of the gas station mart, grabbing the usuals off the shelf. Protein bars, chips, beef jerky. He passed a stand of horrifically processed baked goods and sighed, reaching out to grab a slice of cherry pie. He rolled his eyes as he put it into the basket as well. He wasn't trying to suck up to Dean by remembering to buy the pie, he just thought it might help loosen things up in their relationship again. He'd been trying; mainly to change little things he usually did, like not complaining that Dean was always the one to drive, not complaining about his music, not really complaining at all…Sam sighed again and went to pay for the stuff. Unfortunately, his efforts didn't really seem to be working. Dean was still somewhat distant, and Sam could only assume that it was because his brother still didn't trust him. But he also knew trust took time, and their last hunt at the wax museum hadn't gone _terribly_ so maybe they could get back into the swing of things again. Maybe everything could go back to normal.

Sam just still wasn't sure that was exactly what he wanted. Because, after all, it might just be that Dean simply thought he was a monster.

Sam had tried over the weeks to blot out the memory of that voicemail his brother had left for him before he had gone to kill Lilith. He'd thought that the pain would fade eventually, that he would remember it being less harsh than it was, or find some reasonable explanation that Dean might have said those things. Heck, maybe part of him had been waiting for Dean himself to bring it up and apologize; taking back what he said in the heat of anger. But none of that had happened and the message had simply eaten a hole in Sam's heart, making him question whether Dean had ever truly trusted him.

 _I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam._

"Hey, buddy, you okay there?"

Sam startled and looked up at the cashier seeing the guy watching him expectantly.

"Oh, sorry," Sam murmured and reached into his pocket for his wallet.

After he paid for the snacks and went back out to the Impala, he found Dean talking on the phone.

"Yeah, sure, don't worry about it. We'll be there soon. Bye." He ended the call and turned around the see Sam.

"Was that Bobby?" he asked.

Dean shook his head. "No, actually, it was an old friend of Dad's, or, well, you know, a hunting partner."

Sam snorted. Yeah, their dad hadn't really had a lot of friends and most of the hunters he worked with that were still alive had had a falling out with him.

"You remember Jerry Harlan?" Dean asked.

Sam frowned. "Name kinda sounds familiar."

"He was the one who helped Dad out with that revenant case that summer—think you were about fourteen."

Sam furrowed his brow, vaguely remembering. "He need help on a hunt?"

"Yeah, actually, sounds pretty hairy," Dean said. "He said he thought it was a wendigo at first, taking hikers in a remote area, but when he got up there it looked like more than one of something and wendigos don't hunt in packs."

Sam frowned, his research gears already moving. "You sure we have time to do another hunt, Dean? I mean, come on, in case you forgot, it's the apocalypse!"

"I know, Sam," Dean snapped. "But we're stuck, okay? Bobby can't find anything useful, Cas is still off looking for God, and if I don't do something I'm gonna go stir crazy. I figure if we can't gank Lucifer, we can at least hunt some evil sons of bitches who are hurting innocent people."

Sam knew that arguing wasn't going to do any good so he simply moved to open the car door. "You're right. Let's go then."

Dean seemed surprised at how easy he had won the argument and slipped silently behind the wheel. Sam set the bag of snacks between them on the seat. "Here. And before you ask, I got pie."

Dean's eyes widened. "Really? To what do I owe this surprise?"

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to look out the window, folding his arms over his chest.

"Whatever," Dean muttered and started the car, peeling out of the parking lot and down the highway. He flipped his music on, letting Led Zeppelin blare from the speakers, leaving all conversation impossible.

They stopped later that night at a motel halfway to the point they would meet with Jerry, in Idaho. Dean went on a food run and Sam sat down with his laptop to start doing research into the hunt they would be doing. At least that was something Dean still trusted him to do. Although that could be because he just didn't want to have to do it himself.

The first things he found were the local news reports about the missing hikers. No bodies had been recovered yet, and only the campsites, which had been torn to pieces with traces of blood at some of them, were indication that something violent had happened to the hikers at all. All of that pointed to a wendigo but if Jerry thought there was more than one monster out there, then that didn't quite add up. Of course, it was the apocalypse, and other things had been going crazy. Even Leshi, the forest god they had just destroyed at the wax Museum in Canton had confessed to 'pigging out' because of the apocalypse. Maybe the end of times had all the big bads in the mindset that normal rules didn't apply.

Dean came back into the room then, Chinese takeout in hand. He glanced over and saw Sam on the computer. "Find anything?"

"Have mainly just been reading the news reports," Sam said. "Thought I might look into the history behind the area a little." He pushed the computer aside and took the box Dean slid across the table to him. "If these are wendigos, don't you think it's weird they would be as far west as Idaho?"

Dean shrugged, picking up his chopsticks. "We hunted that one out in Colorado, remember? Besides, with the apocalypse nigh, it's kinda got everything worked up," he said, echoing Sam's thoughts from earlier.

"Yeah," Sam said and turned back to his food. He could feel Dean's eyes on him every once in a while and wanted to yell at him to stop but he couldn't really blame his brother for being like that. He probably would be too if Dean had been the one chugging demon blood. Just the thought of it now made his stomach flip sickly and he pushed his food aside, and turned back to research. He heard Dean sigh quietly but ignored him.

He decided to turn in early, in the hopes that sleep would actually come tonight, and went to take a shower while Dean was occupied flipping channels on the TV. When Sam returned, he simply moved to his bed, crawled under the covers and laid down with his back to Dean, squeezing his eyes shut, and willing sleep to come.

Eventually, Dean turned the TV off, and crawled into bed himself. When his brother's breathing stayed light instead of evening out as well, Sam knew it was going to be a long night.

* * *

 _Dean lay in bed, waiting for the sound_ of Sam's even breathing that would tell him his brother had finally fallen asleep, but it never came. Dean huffed and turned his back, gripping his pillow tight. He didn't know what was going on with Sam lately. First, he'd gone off by himself, tried to get out of the life, and now that he was back, even though they'd agreed that this was the best thing for them to do, he was just acting like a little bitch. Typical. It was like it was all Dean's fault that he didn't trust Sam.

And could he really be blamed for a little rocky trust? After all, Dean wasn't the one who had gone behind his brother's back, hanging out with demons and sucking demon blood. And yeah, Dean knew that in reality, Sam didn't _want_ the apocalypse to happen, but he'd like a little reassurance that his brother wasn't just going to run off when things got rough, or were too much for him to handle. Sam just had to learn to suck it up.

But he's also seen Sam like this before in the past too. Like when he had gone off to collage, and he'd come back then, Dean knew he had to have faith that his brother would come around again, and they could stop this thing together. Because, if he was being honest, he wasn't sure he could do it all by himself, and he sure as hell didn't want to have to.

At least Sam was hunting with him again though; that was a start.

Dean heard Sam shift around and huff out a weary sigh before he got out of his bed and headed to the table to pull out his laptop. Dean muffled his own sigh into his pillow. Multiple wendigos or not, he didn't think either of them would get any sleep that night.

And it was a long night. Dean only caught snatches of poor sleep riddled with nightmares and Sam was still at his laptop when Dean finally rolled out of bed to shower in the morning.

When he came out, hair still wet, Sam was still there and hadn't even so much as looked at him that morning. Dean turned to his bags to pack stuff up. "Find anything?" he asked his brother nonchalantly.

"Uh, yeah, actually a few things," Sam said. "Some history on the area that might shed some light on the hunt."

"Great, you can tell me on the way," Dean said and slung his bag over his shoulder, grabbing his keys. "We'll get some breakfast on our way out of town."

Sam packed up his laptop without a word and followed Dean out of the room and to the car. Again, Dean felt irked by this oddly compliant Sam, but he chose to ignore it because he knew from long experience that it was best to just let Sam's moods run their course. The more you poked the bear (and a bitchy bear he could be) the longer Sam decided to keep up the act.

They stopped at a fast food drive through for breakfast burritos and coffee and then Dean hit the highway and they were on their way to their destination.

Dean took a deep gulp of his coffee before he turned to Sam. "So, what has the geekboy found out that can be of use?"

Sam shot him a bitchface that almost made Dean feel better, but he simply grabbed a notebook and looked over some of the notes he had made. "Well, after looking at the reports about the killings, or kidnappings which is what they are calling them officially, I didn't think it looked like werewolves which would be the most likely conclusion for pack hunters."

"What about vamps?" Dean cut in.

Sam shook his head. "The campsites were torn apart. Vampires aren't usually so violent."

"Yeah, and they usually prefer a more urban setting," Dean agreed.

"Exactly, so I started to look into more local lore, and came across this one story about similar occurrences dating back to the 60s, and then the 30s, and then pretty much every thirty years."

"That kinda tracks with wendigos."

"Yeah, it does, at least with most of the other cases we worked. Anyway, that's what I thought too, so I started looking a little deeper into the history of the area, and apparently there was a party of settlers passing through back in the eighteen hundreds that got caught out in the woods during a long cold winter."

"And let me guess, they took after the Donner Party," Dean grunted, shaking his head.

"Actually, no one knows for sure," Sam said. "They just know that this group never made it to their destination and when they sent out a search party, the only thing left was an abandoned rough campsite and several graves."

"Maybe we shouldn't rule out vengeful spirits," Dean said.

Sam shrugged, "Maybe not. But the story does point to wendigos. I'm betting that it ended badly enough for those people that they ended up doing what they had to do to stay alive."

"Yikes," Dean shuddered. "Don't put me down for cannibalism."

Sam just shook his head, and looked over his notes more. "At least if it is a wendigo, even more than one, some of the hikers might even still be alive. And we know how to kill them. Then we can get back to figuring out what to do about the apocalypse."

Dean stifled a sigh as he watched the road ahead. "You know, Sam, just because it's the end of the world, doesn't mean we get to quit our day job. People still need saving."

"Dean, the _world_ needs saving," Sam snapped. "If we don't stop Lucifer, _everyone_ is going to die."

"You don't think I know that? I mean, I'm apparently the one who's supposed to stop it," Dean snapped back. "And like I said before, when we have some idea of _how_ to stop the devil, great, let's go! But until then, monsters are still killing people, and if we have nothing better to do, then we have to keep saving, because that's our job."

"I'm not arguing that point, I'm just—you know what, forget it, it's not worth arguing over." Sam then turned to look out the window, obviously done with this conversation.

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but had nothing to say. Besides, he knew no matter what he said, it wouldn't do any good. He simply flicked on the radio and turned the music up loud, pressing his foot harder into the gas pedal.

He did agree with Sam on one thing. The sooner this case was over, the better.

* * *

 _They stopped later for gas and food_ when they got over the border of Idaho. Dean left Sam, who still hadn't given up on sulking, in the car, and went to grab burgers from across the street. His phone rang when he was almost on his way back, and he picked it up, slightly annoyed thinking it was probably Jerry, wondering where they were.

But it turned out it was Cas instead.

"Hey, Cas, what's up?"

"Hello Dean," the angel replied and paused. "Um…currently it is raining where I am, so I suppose, clouds are…what is up."

Dean rolled his eyes. "No, man, it's just a…never mind. How are things going?"

The angel sighed. "Poorly. I have searched everywhere I can think of and still no sign of God. No indication He is even still on earth. Perhaps he's _not_ on earth. I didn't really consider that option…"

"Why don't take a break, come back to it with a clear head?" Dean suggested, crossing the street with his bag of hot food. "Sam and I are actually heading to meet another hunter on a case. Looks like it might be multiple wendigos. We could use another set of hands."

"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt. And I do feel like I would be more use to you there than I am here right now. After all, if God is hiding on earth, I highly doubt it would be in the middle of the wettest part of the English countryside." He paused again. "How is Sam?"

Dean glanced toward where he'd parked the Impala, halting his progress for a moment as he saw Sam just sitting inside, looking down at something. "Oh, you know, he's okay."

"Dean, I know it might be hard for you two to start working together again after everything, but we need Sam in this fight. And he needs you right now. If Lucifer finds any chink in his armor—"

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me twice," Dean cut in grimly. "I know we'll get back into the swing of things after a while, it's just…I wouldn't mind having a buffer either."

"I understand," Cas replied. "I'll come help you on this hunt."

Dean felt some relief. He didn't really want to put Cas in that position on purpose, but at the same time, he would be extremely glad for the angel being there.

"I'll text you the address for the gas station we're at now," Dean told him.

"I'll be there soon," Cas replied. "I'm going to hang up now."

"Okay, bye, Cas," Dean said and shook his head as he ended the call and tapped out the location to send to Cas. He then crossed the parking lot to the Impala and knocked on Sam's window, startling him slightly from the book he was looking at.

"Food," he said and tossed one of the burgers into Sam's lap. His brother's lips thinned but he didn't say anything. He didn't even complain that Dean hadn't gotten him a salad.

"Cas called; he's gonna join us on this one."

Sam frowned now and turned around. "Isn't he kinda busy?"

"He hit a dead end, needed a break," Dean shrugged. "Figured we could use an extra pair of hands."

"We've already got three hunters on this."

"And if we have at least three wendigos we're gonna need the help," Dean shot back.

"Well as long as you didn't invite him because you think I need a babysitter."

Dean spun around on his brother. "Oh, I don't—seriously? Cas isn't a babysitter, he's our friend! If I'd worried about you that much I would have dropped you at Bobby's."

Sam looked like he was going to say something when a knock came at the window and Dean spun around to see Cas standing there. Dean nodded to the back and the angel opened the door and slid into the back seat.

"Hey, Cas," Dean replied. "Got here just in time."

"Hello Dean. Sam," Cas nodded to the younger Winchester.

"Hey, Cas," Sam said, sounded somewhat subdued.

"Alright, well, now that you're here, we've gotta go," Dean said and started the engine.

Yeah, this hunt was gonna be a barrel of fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who has read and followed this story so far!**

 **Also, to my Guest reviewer, Thank you! S5 is one of my favorite seasons to write for, so I'm glad you enjoy fics set in that season too :)**

Chapter Two

They pulled into the parking lot of the motel that they would be meeting Jerry Harlan at and Sam couldn't figure out why he felt such trepidation to be going on this hunt. Even with him and Dean fighting, or, whatever it was they were doing, it shouldn't have made him feel like this. His stomach was actually almost queasy. Perhaps the real problem was that he had been so worried about what Dean thought of him these past few weeks that he'd actually started to lose faith in himself too. Maybe he _couldn't_ hunt anymore. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to come back after all. If he really was losing his touch, he could get Dean seriously hurt or worse. He was suddenly glad that he and his brother wouldn't be doing this hunt alone.

Dean had called ahead to tell Jerry they were almost there and the hunter was waiting by his truck for them. Dean parked in the next space and they got out.

"Hey Jerry," Dean called, heading over to the man and shaking his proffered hand.

"Dean Winchester, it's been a long time," Jerry said with a smile. "You've grown up a bit. So has your brother."

Sam forced a smile, but as Jerry's eyes settled on him, all he felt was scrutiny that made him want to shrink back inside the Impala. Jerry was a hard-looking man with a lined and scarred face, greying black hair, and cold, grey eyes. But there was just something in the way the other hunter looked at him, that made Sam feel like he was sizing him up, more like he would a suspect than a hunting partner. Castiel seemed to sense Sam's discomfort and moved to stand at his shoulder, furrowing his brow as he took the hunter in.

"Who's your friend?" Jerry asked Dean, nodding to Cas.

"Oh, that's Cas," Dean said motioning behind him.

Cas stepped forward. "It's nice to meet you. I'm an a—"

"He's a friend of the family," Dean cut in quickly. "Another hunter. Thought we might need another hand on this one."

Jerry snorted slightly. "Well, four hunters might be a little excessive, but I won't say no to the help, especially with how this is going. Another camp was raided last night, a lot farther west this time. Looks like whatever this thing—or things—is it's going further afoot."

"More reason to get up there and gank the son of a bitch before it does any more damage," Dean said. "Sam's actually done some research and has a few ideas of what we might be dealing with."

"Oh, has he?" Jerry asked, raising an eyebrow as if he were skeptical. Sam felt a hot rush of indignation run through him. "Well, I'd be interested to hear your theory."

"Sure," Dean said. "Why don't I go grab some food and we can talk it out. What do you say we leave first thing in the morning?"

"Sounds like a plan." Jerry turned and headed back to his motel room.

Dean turned back to the Impala but Sam caught his arm. "Dean, I've got a weird feeling about this."

Dean turned to him with a frown. "What the hell do you mean?"

"It's just…" Sam grunted slightly, trying to figure out how to explain himself to his brother. "Something about Jerry, he just doesn't seem to like me very much."

Dean snorted. "Okay, I can deal with your sulking but I'm not gonna deal with your weird paranoia. Jerry is a hunter, we've worked with him before without raising any red flags. And we don't have to be friends with him, we just go in, do the job, and get out." He turned to Cas. "And don't mention you're an angel, okay?"

"Why not?" Cas asked, confused.

"Because, hunters can wig out at working with supernatural creatures. So just…no zapping around or smiting—unless it's necessary."

"So you're pretty much saying you don't trust him either," Sam cut in, folding his arms over his chest. "Why did you take this job anyway?"

"I'm saying I know how hunters think," Dean snapped. "Now shut up, and be polite. I know that's a lot to ask, especially right now that you're obviously going through 'that time of the month' but can you at least try to be civil?" Dean tugged his keys out of his pocket. "I'm gonna go grab food, you and Cas stay here and book a room for the night."

Sam clenched his jaw before he said something he would probably regret later. He knew there was no point in arguing with Dean right now, especially about this. He grabbed his backpack from the car and watched as Dean drove out of the parking lot.

Castiel turned to him once the Impala disappeared down the road. "Sam, are you sure you're all right?"

Sam sighed heavily, hitching his bag over his shoulder as he headed toward the main office of the motel. "Yeah, I'm all right."

"But you do have an instinct about Jerry," Cas stated.

"I don't know. Cas, honestly, at this point, why should I even bother trusting my judgment? Dean doesn't."

"That's not true," Cas said. "You and Dean might be somewhat…distant at this moment, but if you truly feel that something is wrong, I think he will listen."

Sam hesitated but shook his head. "Yeah, I know. But…the problem is, even _I_ think I'm paranoid."

"Well, Sam, you can't expect yourself to just come back from the knowledge that you freed Lucifer. Even though it wasn't your fault, I can see how the guilt weighs on you."

"Accident or not, it doesn't make me feel any better," Sam sighed and pushed past the angel into the motel office, heading up to the desk.

After paying and heading inside the room, Sam slumped at the table with his laptop, just waiting for Dean to get back. He wasn't really hungry, but he wasn't looking forward to discussing his findings with Jerry either. But they were in this now, and there was nothing to do but go through with it.

Dean came back with a pizza and they all congregated into Jerry's room to eat dinner and discuss the hunt.

"So, you find anything so far?"

"Only a lot of nothing," Jerry huffed, going to the mini fridge and pulling out a few bottles of beer, passing them around. "Guess you're old enough to have this now, Sammy," he said with a small smirk as he put the beer in front of Sam.

"It's Sam," he replied from between clenched teeth.

"Oh, sorry then," Jerry said patronizingly.

Dean shot Sam a warning look, and turned back to the hunter. "So something that's smart enough to not get caught so quickly. Still sounds like a wendigo to me."

"Too far west, and they don't hunt in packs," Jerry shrugged taking a long pull of his beer. "Otherwise, I'd say you were right on the money."

"Actually, Sam and I have hunted a wendigo in Colorado," Dean interjected.

"And wendigos can appear wherever violent cannibalism has been demonstrated," Cas added. "Though most of the lore does come out of Cree legend, the occurrence of wendigos has been known to happen all over the country."

"Well, looks like we've got a couple scholars in the house tonight," Jerry said in a way that just sounded more mocking than grateful. Dean at least seemed to pick up on that this time.

"You did ask us for help," Sam's brother said.

Jerry just shrugged and finally turned to Sam. "So, what is all this research you found then?"

Sam grudgingly related the information he had found and Jerry listened impassively. When he had related everything he knew, the hunter only sat back in his chair, taking another long drink of his beer.

"Well, it's an interesting theory. But we won't know anything for sure until we actually see what we're dealing with. And hopefully with all of us out there we'll have a chance to track it down. Whatever it is."

"Sam's research is usually pretty sound," Dean spoke up, startling Sam again that his brother was actually defending him on this. Maybe Dean still trusted him with something after all. "I'd be willing to bet on him being right about this."

"Bet your life on it?" Jerry cocked an eyebrow.

Sam held his breath, glancing at his brother. Dean shrugged. "Done it enough times before."

"Well, forgive me if I'm not as confident in your little brother's abilities," Jerry said, standing up to go grab another beer. "And this is still my hunt, so I'd ask you all kindly to follow my lead on this."

Dean's brow furrowed. Oh, Sam knew how much his brother hated when people pulled an authoritarian card on him. Despite what Sam had said about Dean in the past, he'd truly only ever let their dad push him around like that without question.

"You all want to play a little poker to pass the time?" Jerry asked.

Dean stood up from the table though and Sam and Cas were quick to follow. "Actually, I think we're gonna hit the sack. We've been driving all day, and we've got an early one tomorrow."

"Fair enough. See you at six sharp," Jerry said.

The three returned to their room and as the door closed, Sam turned to his brother. "See what I mean, Dean?"

"Sam, just…" Dean grunted, running a hand over his face. "Look, the guy's a dick, but he's a hunter, most of us aren't exactly great with pleasantries. And Bobby's worked with him on several occasions too and never said anything bad about him so you know he has to check out."

Sam thought briefly about the hunters who had tried to force demon blood down his throat only a couple weeks ago. Bobby had also called them in to deal with the demons and apocalypse omens and look what had happened when they had found out the truth about Sam? He wondered who else they had or would tell about what had really happened? He just wasn't sure he could trust _any_ hunters anymore.

"I think your theory is sound, Sam," Cas spoke up then. "And I believe Jerry will see that too once we get more evidence."

Sam just shook his head and went to grab his sleep clothes, before heading to the shower.

When he turned the water off, he heard the sound of conversation from out in the room and paused to listen.

"Do you think there really is something going on with Jerry Harlan?" came Cas' voice, quickly followed by Dean's snort.

"No, Sam's just paranoid. Like I said earlier, dude's kinda a dick, but that doesn't mean he has any ulterior motives. Sam just thinks everyone is out to get him right now. He's been sulking since we got back together. I was hoping getting back into hunting would change that but he's determined to make this hard on both of us."

Sam clenched his jaw. Two could play at that game, and Dean wasn't exactly making it easy for him either, in fact, Sam had spent most of the last week trying to _not_ be a problem. But apparently Dean just saw that as 'sulking'. Whatever. Dean could think what he wanted to. Sam didn't care anymore.

"Dean, I think you should go easy on your brother, he's been through a lot," Cas chided.

"Hell yeah, he has," Dean returned. "Starting the freaking apocalypse."

"You and I both know that wasn't his fault."

"Still, Sam and I agreed we needed training wheels for working together and that's what we're doing. Working a case with another hunter is a good way of doing that. Jerry may not be ideal, but he called us in and we've gotta help where we can. Things are about to get really hairy and making more allies can't be a bad thing."

Sam roughly dried himself off and tugged his clothes on, making as much noise shuffling around the bathroom as possible so Dean would hear him and hopefully get the hint to stop the conversation. He opened the door to find Dean and Cas sitting at the small table, several empty cans of beer already in front of Dean. Sam did his best to play to the fact he hadn't just heard their conversation and nodded to the bathroom. "You gonna shower?"

Dean inhaled deeply and stood up. "Nah, just gonna get dirty tomorrow. In fact, I'm gonna turn in. Cas? You gonna hang out here, or what, 'cause…"

"Oh, I actually thought I might do some preliminary scouting up on the mountain," the angel said, standing up from the table. "I will leave you two to your rest." He disappeared then and Dean shook his head slightly before he went to his bed, kicking his boots off but otherwise laying down fully clothed.

"Best get some sleep, Sammy," he said, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes.

Right, like Dean was gonna sleep that night. But Sam didn't say anything. He simply flicked the lamp off and crawled into his own bed, clutching the pillow tight under his cheek.

He really hoped he was right about the wendigos, otherwise he was going to make himself and Dean look bad in front of Jerry.

He just really wished this hunt could be over, that Dean had never agreed to come out here in the first place. He couldn't shake the bad feeling that something was going to go wrong, he just didn't know what yet.

* * *

 _The air was crisp in the pre-dawn glow_ as Dean searched through the Impala's trunk, looking for the items they would need. They had agreed to take Jerry's truck up the mountain, and, though Dean was loth to leave his Baby, he also didn't really want her driving up those mountain trails.

Cas had come back about an hour earlier with nothing to report on the mountain that night. Apparently everyone had finally gotten the memo and hadn't pitched a camp out there again. Of course, he hadn't seen any monsters either.

Sam and Cas joined him now as Jerry too appeared, stretching and slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder as he strode over to the group.

"You fellas all set to go?" he asked, glancing at them, his eyes lingering on Cas with a bemused frown. "You gonna wear that out there, buddy?"

Cas frowned and looked down at himself, plucking at the trench coat. "This is…what I always wear."

Jerry cocked a brow. "Well, suit yourself."

"We're all packed and ready," Dean assured the other hunter. "I call shotgun."

Sam didn't even protest as they went to Jerry's truck and he and Cas were forced to squeeze into the back of the cab. Dean almost snorted. His brother, for some reason he still wasn't entirely sure about, just couldn't stand the hunter. He just hoped this tension wouldn't explode at the most inopportune moment on the hunt.

It was an overcast and wet day. The clouds hung low over the mountains, shrouding the road ahead of them in mist. Rain spattered the windshield, and Dean wondered how lucky they might be to _not_ have to camp out in the woods that night in this weather. Dean really hated camping.

Their ride was mostly silent and by the time they reached the trailhead Dean was wishing he had gotten more sleep the night before. Not that he labored under any delusion that no matter when or where he slept it would be nightmare free.

Jerry parked his truck and cut the engine and the four of them got out to start unloading their bags of equipment.

"There's a good spot to make camp about seven miles up," Jerry said. "It's a central area to the attacks so it's likely the middle of whatever this thing's hunting grounds are."

Dean glanced at the muddy, slick trail, and suppressed a sigh. "Awesome."

Sam slung a bag over his shoulder as Jerry shoved one of the tents into Cas' arms. "Here, make yourself useful."

The angel narrowed his eyes and Dean thought Cas was about to drop the tent on the hunter's feet, but he simply slung the tent over his shoulder and grabbed the other one as well before heading over to the trailhead.

"That's everything," Jerry said, taking a shotgun out and holding it at the ready. "Hope everybody's ready for a hike."

They slogged along the trail, silent, vigilant, and getting more and more covered in mud. Dean glanced back at Cas several times, at the rear, to see the angel looking down with chagrin, probably wishing he hadn't kept the loafers now. Dean was surprised they hadn't fallen off.

Sam trudged directly behind him, sullen expression enhanced by the slight spitting rain plastering his hair to his head.

As they hiked further into the woods, though, they all began to notice something was a little off. Cas was the one who voiced it first.

"The animals, they're all silent, hiding," he said softly.

Dean realized he was right. It was eerily quiet.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, a furrow in his brow. "I guess that means we're in the right place."

"How much farther to your campsite, Jerry?" Dean called ahead to the other hunter.

"One more mile," Jerry said.

Well, that was something at least. Dean glanced back to see Sam grabbing Cas' elbow as the angel stepped in a particularly deep squelching puddle. He shook his head. These certainly weren't ideal conditions for fighting against a monster as crafty as a wendigo, let alone more than one at a time.

They made it to the campsite and Dean took a cautious look around. It was a small clearing, with more trees surrounding it than he would have liked, but they had little choice in the matter; this place was as good as any.

"Alright then, fellas," Jerry said, taking his pack from off his shoulder. "Let's make camp."

"Awesome," Dean muttered.

They laid out tarps on the wet ground and pitched the tents. They only had the two that Jerry had provided but Dean figured that they would have to take turns sitting up to keep watch, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Even though the tents looked rather small.

The already overcast sky was darkening further by the time they had finished, and Dean glanced warily at the surrounding, shadowy forest, glancing toward his bag of weapons.

"Probably not going to have much luck with a fire tonight," Jerry said as he cleared away a spot in the middle of camp for a fire pit. "But we can try it."

"I'll go see if I can find any dry wood," Sam offered instantly. He'd kept quiet for most of the hike, not that Dean was surprised.

"Be careful," he told his brother needlessly.

"I'll go with you," Cas said.

Sam rolled his eyes slightly and strode off. Dean shook his head and tossed the bag into one of the tents.

"So, Jerry, you really don't think its wendigos?" Dean asked the other hunter.

Jerry shrugged. "Look, I've been hunting for a long time, I've seen a lot of weird stuff. Kinda comes with the territory of the job. But of all the wendigos I've hunted, never have I seen more than one of them. Now, this here, the body count, can't be just one thing. Whether it's wendigos or not, well, that's to be determined." He glanced toward the direction Sam and Cas had gone to look for wood. "Dean, look, don't take this the wrong way, look, I'm grateful you came to help and all, but your brother doesn't seem to be very into this. You sure he's up to this hunt?"

Dean bit back a sharp retort, thinking that maybe if Jerry hadn't shot him down the night before, Sam wouldn't be so bitchy about following his lead. "Aw, Sammy's just…going through some stuff. But don't worry, when it comes down to it, he'll have our backs."

"Hm," was all Jerry replied, an almost darkly thoughtful look on his face. Dean studied the hunter for a moment, wondering what he was thinking, but before he could pursue his thoughts anymore, Sam and Cas returned with their arms loaded with wood.

"This is mostly dry," Cas informed them, dumping the logs into the makeshift fire pit that Jerry had created.

"Great," Jerry said, and bent to build the fire. He put some leaves and pine needles in for a fire starter and took out a lighter. Dean saw Cas make a small gesture with his hand and the fire flared up way more than it should have with the wood being so damp. Jerry almost stumbled back in surprise. "Ha, must have been dryer than you thought."

"Must have been," Cas replied blandly. Dean hid a smirk, and glanced out of the corner of his eye to Sam sitting on a rock nearby, a book in his lap and a flashlight turned on to help him read in the dim light.

They ate a quick meal and then Jerry began cleaning his guns next to the light of the fire.

"We should take shifts to keep watch," he said.

"I'll watch through the night," Cas offered instantly. "I don't sleep." Dean shot him a look and Cas stumbled on, "…well. In the woods." He glanced at Dean and the hunter rolled his eyes.

Jerry gave him a slightly weird look but shrugged. "Well, suit yourself, buddy. I guess I'll turn in then." He got up, stretched, and headed toward one of the tents.

Cas turned to Dean. "You and Sam should try to get some rest too. Don't worry, I'll let you know if anything is out there."

Dean nodded, though reluctantly. He wasn't exactly looking forward to what would undoubtedly be another night of no sleep, made even worse by the hard lumpy ground. At least it had stopped raining.

"Sam, you gonna turn in?" Dean asked his brother who had kept up the silent game for the most part all through dinner.

"Yeah, whatever," Sam said with a slight sigh and moved toward the other tent. Dean closed his eyes briefly, praying for strength and followed.

They unrolled the sleeping bags, but didn't even take their shoes off before slipping into them. It was never a good idea to take your shoes off if you were planning on having to get up quickly and run through the woods in the dark.

"Thought this was supposed to be a four-man tent," Dean grumbled as he fought to get comfortable. "Barely fits two."

Sam huffed as he attempted to situate himself and Dean glanced over at his struggling shadow in the dark. "So tent rules: no farting, and if I wake up as the little spoon, I'm kicking you out."

Sam snorted and Dean thought he could almost detect a smile from his brother, but Sam gave him no comeback like he normally would. Just silence as he lay down, wriggling into his sleeping bag and turned his back on Dean. Dean bit his lip and wriggled into his own sleeping bag, making sure he had a variety of weapons close at hand, and turned his own back on Sam.

He didn't expect to sleep, but as soon as he laid down, he knew there was no chance he would get even ten winks that night. The ground was too lumpy, he had something digging into his back and then his hip, and even fully clothed in his sleeping bag, he was freezing in the cold night air. Plus every little sound had him on edge. Even worse, he could hear Jerry snoring from across the camp and he angrily wondered how that bastard could even think of sleeping.

Finally, his bladder added to his discomfort and Dean slid from his sleeping bag and exited the tent.

Cas was sitting next to the fire, now only deep red embers casting an eerie glow around the campsite. The angel glanced up at him curiously and Dean shrugged. "Call of nature."

"Oh, yes, of course. Urination," Cas nodded thoughtfully as if just remembering that humans did such a thing. Dean shook his head and moved off to one side of the camp to relieve his bladder.

When he was done he walked back over to Cas, hands in his pockets as he looked into the fire, watching the embers smolder and shift in that unreal way they had. As he gazed deeper, though, they began to conjure images from his time in Hell, where everything has been red and black, and hot, and it was all one long nightmare.

Dean looked away quickly, swallowing hard. It wasn't a good idea to blind yourself by looking into the fire anyway.

"Any sign of anything?" Dean asked Cas, trying to shift his mind back to the present.

The angel shook his head. "No. It's still quiet. Well, for the most part." He cast an annoyed look over to Jerry's tent. Dean snorted.

"That bastard. I don't know how he can sleep out here."

There was a sound that came from somewhere deep in the forest then and Dean and Cas both whipped their heads up.

"You hear that?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Cas replied.

There was another sound, like a whisper through the trees, and quick footsteps over a damp forest floor.

That was when Dean caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye, and whipped around, the gun he had in his belt already in his hand.

"Cas," he hissed.

"I saw it." The angel was on his feet now, his blade held at the ready, eyes darting around.

There was deadly silence for a few long seconds. Dean held his gun at the ready, canting himself in the opposite direction of Cas so they could cover the campsite.

"Where'd it go?" he hissed.

There was the sound of a twig snapping and Dean whipped around again.

"It's here," Cas said grimly.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It only took seconds for them to assemble the whole camp. Dean didn't think Sam had been deeply asleep, and Jerry, despite his snoring was up and ready within seconds.

"Where is it?" he demanded. "What's it look like?"

"We didn't get a good look," Dean said. "It's too fast."

"It seems to be circling the camp," Cas added, eyes constantly roving the dark woods. "I believe it's looking for an opening."

The moment he said that, another twig snapped and there was a rush in the underbrush as something tore toward them.

They all spun around so they were back to back, each facing a different side of the camp, but as soon as the initial rush had ceased, everything was deathly silent.

"Where is it?" Dean hissed. "Cas, you see it?"

"I—"

The angel was cut off with a horrifying scream that sounded very human. The hunters spun toward the sound.

"Help! Someone help me! Agghh!"

Dean glanced over at the others, saw Sam's jaw tighten as the younger hunter shook his head. "It's gotta be a wendigo."

"I can go check to make sure," Cas said and began to stride forward when Jerry shot out a hand.

"You crazy, son? That thing will tear you apart!"

"No, I'm—"

Dean cut Cas off with his own hand on his shoulder. "Just stay here, man. No one's leaving this camp with that thing out there."

Which meant they were going to have to wait for the fugly bastard to get bored of trying to lure them out there, which could take a while. Wendigos were infuriatingly calculating.

But this one appeared to be impatient because a few minutes later, it seemed to see that it's ruse wasn't going to work, so it started to think of better ways to get a quick meal.

It swept past the camp again, rustling through the trees. Everyone turned their heads up as they could hear the high branches moving.

"Oh crap," Dean muttered, holding his gun tighter.

Sam, he noticed, was carrying a flare gun, smart kid. That's how they had gotten a wendigo before. Fire was the only way you could kill them, but Dean didn't really want them all to be throwing fire around until they had pinned the SOB down tight.

"There!" Cas suddenly shouted as a pale, thin figure dropped into camp in a crouch of distorted limbs, and snarled like some oversized Gollum.

The four hunters leapt out of the way as the wendigo charged toward them, Dean and Jerry both fired off several rounds, all hitting their mark, but doing little to stop the onrush. The wendigo simply made another phlegmy roar and struck out with a long clawed hand, hitting Jerry in the chest and sending the older hunter flying into his tent, collapsing it with a tangled snap of tent poles.

Cas leapt forward then, angel blade in hand and stabbed the wendigo in the side. It didn't like that at all, and backhanded the angel. Cas tumbled, but rolled gracefully and came back up on his feet a few yards away, distracting the monster long enough to give Sam an opening.

"Watch out!" he shouted to the others as he aimed the flare gun and shot.

Unfortunately, the wendigo had anticipated the shot and leapt out of the way. The flare shot off into the woods and blew up in a bright red explosion.

"Dammit!" Sam shouted before the wendigo charged him with a snarl and reached down to snatch him up with one hand around his throat.

Dean was already on the run, heading toward the firepit where a long branch was sticking out for him to grab. He raised it in his hand, tip smoldering and slightly pointed, and didn't hesitate to leap forward and stab it into the wendigo's back.

The creature gave an unearthly scream. It dropped Sam and arched back as it caught fire in a burst of flames.

Cas rushed forward to haul Sam out of the way at the same time Jerry untangled himself from the tent and the four of them watched the wendigo meet its demise.

When it was nothing more than charred remains, Dean glanced toward Sam and cocked an eyebrow. The younger man was rubbing his throat where the creature's claws had grabbed him, and still trying to catch his breath, but he nodded that he was okay.

Cas stepped toward the charred pile of wendigo and retrieved his blade, shaking the ash off of the silver weapon.

Jerry wandered up, snorting in amusement. "Well, I guess that's that. Anyone gonna put out that fire in the woods?"

* * *

 _They kept watch through the rest_ of the night just in case, but nothing else came to bother them. In fact, by dawn, birds started signing again. Everyone seemed convinced that this was the only wendigo out there.

Everyone except Sam.

He watched as Jerry joked with Dean as they buried the remains of the body.

"You got balls, son," Jerry told him. "Attacking that thing with just a piece of firewood."

"Well, you use what you have at hand," Dean said, seeming to shrug off the praise.

"Spoken like a true hunter," Jerry clapped him on the back. "At least you didn't nearly burn the forest down."

Sam bristled. It hadn't been his fault the flare had gone awry, it was just an accident. Besides, with the wet forest, it had barely been smoldering by the time he and Cas had gone to put it out.

"Well, at least Sammy didn't try to get out of the fight by attacking the tent," Dean said. There was a smile on his face, but Sam could see the irritation in his eyes too. It was kind of annoying that Jerry, who professed that this was _his_ hunt, was the one who had sat out the actual fight, even if it hadn't actually been his fault.

The hunter looked slightly miffed at first, then laughed it off, clapping Dean on the shoulder again. "Well, I guess that means I buy the drinks when we get back to town tonight."

"Are we headed out now?" Sam cut in, stepping forward to join in the conversation.

"After we look around for this thing's lair and see if there's any campers left, yeah," Jerry said. "You wanna stay out here another night? The thing's dead. Case closed."

"You're sure this is the only one?" Sam demanded. "You said it yourself, you thought there was more than one thing out here. That's why you called us in the first place."

"And it looks like I was wrong after all," Jerry shrugged. "Happens. Look, Sammy, if there were more than one, they would have attacked us together last night."

"It's Sam," the younger Winchester snapped. "And they might have left the others back at their lair. We could be walking into a trap unprepared."

Jerry snorted. "Kid, I've been hunting since you were in diapers. I think I know what I'm doing. And I definitely know when a hunt is over. It's a gut feeling."

"Yeah, well, _I_ have a gut feeling that this _isn't_ over," Sam said.

"Sam," Dean muttered with a sigh, grabbing his elbow and tugging him off to one side. "Go help Cas put the tent away."

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but just shook his head, shoving past Dean. It wasn't worth arguing about, obviously. No one was going to listen to him.

"Cas, do you think this was the only wendigo out here?" Sam asked the angel as they disassembled the tent.

Cas gave a weary sweep of the surrounding forest. "Well, the animals are talking again, they aren't hiding away, but that doesn't mean there aren't others in the lair like you said. I think this one had been following us all day yesterday."

Sam bit his lip, contemplating. "I just don't understand why they won't even consider the option."

Cas smiled slightly and reached out to touch Sam's shoulder. "Jerry is, as Dean would say, an ass. I wouldn't pay much attention to him. As for your brother, well, in my own experience older brothers can be very stubborn but if you talk to them they can also be inclined to listen. I am one of the younger angels, you know."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, interested to hear this information about their rather quiet friend.

Cas nodded. "Yes. I only gained my own flight to command a short time before I was sent to Hell to rescue your brother. Before then I was not always listened to, so I can understand what you're going through."

Sam offered a small smile back at the angel, and thought about it. He was right, after all, Sam knew that when it really came down to it, Dean would listen to him if he was sure enough. After all, he had before when they were doing research, had even defended his theory to Jerry. Maybe if Sam could coax him into believing him again, they could go in with a plan, instead of just looking for captive hikers running into a possible ambush. He just didn't want anyone to get hurt or worse on this hunt. It was always better to be safe than sorry.

"Thanks, Cas, I'll try to get him to see reason," Sam said and glanced over his shoulder at Dean who was gathering up some of the stuff that had been tossed around outside the camp when the wendigo had torn through. Sam took a deep breath and strode over to join his brother.

Dean glanced up at him and straightened, a bent tent pole in his hand. "We about packed up?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Good, I think I'm almost done picking up all the pieces here." Dean crouched back down to snag a tin cup.

Sam took a deep breath and said, "Dean I just have a feeling about this; that it's not over."

Dean turned around with an exasperated look. "Sammy, we killed the thing, okay? Our priority now is to find its lair to see if any of the hikers are still alive."

Sam shook his head, practically pleading with his brother to see sense. "And what if there is another wendigo waiting there? Or more than one? Dean, come on, look at this. How many people have gone missing? Over twenty now. In every hunt we've done involving a wendigo before, when have you seen one take more than five or six people per its eating cycle? Never."

"Sam," Dean said in a low voice, holding a hand out almost pleadingly. "Look, I know this one might have been a little weird, but think about it. Leshi was gorging too, the apocalypse has everything going guano. That's gotta be all this is."

"And if it's not?" Sam demanded.

Dean sighed heavily, spearing Sam with a firm gaze. "Sam, is this really about the fact that you're worried the hunt isn't over, or the fact that you were wrong?"

Sam's mouth fell open. "What the…why the hell would you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know, because you've been so bitchy on this whole hunt, practically shrugging off anyone who had a different opinion about it. But as much as it might hurt you to hear, you can't always be right! Sometimes you're wrong, genius!"

"I knew it," Sam said shaking his head. "You still don't trust me, do you?"

"That's not what I said," Dean retorted.

"Yeah, well, I know what you meant," Sam snapped. "Well, whatever, Dean. I don't care anymore. Let's go find the wendigo's lair."

He shoved past his brother back toward the camp and Cas stepped forward.

"Sam," the angel said softly, but Sam shrugged him off.

"Not now, Cas, please," he said.

Jerry was watching all of it with some amusement on his face that made Sam want to punch him, but he shrugged and clapped an unwanted hand onto Sam's shoulder as the younger hunter went to grab his gun.

"Buck up, kiddo. It just means that the hunt is closer to being over. Tell you what, why don't we partner up, so you can let your brother cool off for a while?"

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean who was now angrily throwing stuff into his duffle bag. The last thing he wanted to do right now was go off with only Jerry for company, but at the same time…he didn't really want to be around Dean either. And even Cas would want to try and reason with him about his brother and Sam wasn't in the mood. He supposed if he had to work off some steam, he'd rather Jerry take the fallout than people he actually cared about.

"Fine," he said.

Jerry gave an odd smile that Sam might have paid more attention to if he hadn't been so distracted, and turned to Dean and Cas. "You two ready to head out? Figured we could cover more ground by splitting up. Sammy and I will take the west if you and Cas take the East."

Dean looked slightly surprised at the arrangement, but he tightened his jaw, and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Sure. Call if you find anything."

"Will do," Jerry said and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Let's go."

Sam cast one look back at Dean, noticing his brother looking over his shoulder as well. For a brief moment their eyes met, then Dean's jaw twitched and he turned around. Sam clenched his own jaw and followed Jerry. He didn't care what his brother thought. Dean could come to his own conclusions, and hell, maybe Sam _was_ wrong this time.

Even though he had been pretty damn sure about this one.

They trudged off into the woods in opposite directions. Sam thought Jerry seemed oddly upbeat, even whistling as they walked. It was starting to get annoying, and Sam wondered if he was always this chipper after a hunt. Not that the older man had really done anything on this one.

"You know, kid, don't beat yourself up about it so much. We're all wrong sometimes."

Sam hitched his duffle higher on his shoulder, not replying.

"Your daddy was, on more than one occasion." Jerry went on with a slight chuckle. "And boy, did John hate it when he was wrong. You know, I can see a lot of him in you, Sam."

Sam twisted his mouth wryly. "Yeah, you're not the first one to say that."

"But there was one thing I always admired about John and that was that he got the job done. No matter what." Jerry's voice seemed to harden then, and Sam glanced over at him, startled to see an almost dark gleam in the hunter's eye. A complete change from the whistling man earlier. He glanced sideways at Sam then, turning that cold gaze fully onto the young man. "Kinda makes me wonder if the whole thing with the apocalypse would have happened if he were still alive."

Sam blanched, startled. "How do you know about that?"

Jerry snorted. "Give me some credit, kid. Hunters talk. And right now, the favorite topic is a funny story of how Sam Winchester started the actual, biblical apocalypse. Most recently I heard from a friend of mine. You know Reggie and Tim? They told me an even funnier story about you."

Sam swallowed hard, coming to a full stop. Yeah, he knew them. They had tried to force demon blood down his throat to make him into some kind of weapon after their buddy had gotten killed by demons. That had been one of the reasons he had given up on trying to get out of the life. He knew other hunters would find him anyway, so he may as well be ready for it.

Admittedly, he hadn't been ready for this.

"What are you getting at, Jerry?" Sam demanded, getting ready for any kind of attack that might come.

"I heard about your powers, Sam," Jerry said. "Demon blood?"

"I don't drink it anymore," Sam insisted, voice trembling in anger. "I gave that up."

"And yet addiction is never really something you get over," Jerry said. "You know, I heard the stories Gordon Walker told about you too, back in the day—before you and your brother got him killed. I didn't really believe him back then, he was always kinda off his rocker, and I never would have thought that one of John Winchester's kids could be a monster like that. Thought that John surely would have taken steps to prevent that from happening."

Sam glowered at the hunter as Jerry simply shrugged.

"But I guess that Gordon, crazy as he was, was right after all. You really are a monster."

"So what are you gonna do about it?" Sam demanded, throwing his arms wide. "Kill me?"

Jerry gave a lazy shrug. "Well, son, you gotta understand. Times are tough, it's the damn biblical apocalypse! And I gotta say, someone like you, no matter how good your intensions might be now, you can't obviously expect me to believe they're gonna stay that way. Not when it really comes down to it."

"Oh yeah? Well, screw you," Sam snapped and rushed forward, plowing into Jerry before he tore off through the woods.

But the hunter had obviously been anticipating that and managed to snag his duffle bag as he dashed by, bringing Sam up short. He shrugged out of the bag, and swung around to deliver a punch to Jerry's face, feeling triumphant when it landed. If Jerry thought he was going to go down without a fight, he was wrong.

Jerry grunted and returned the punch. Sam dodged the first one, but didn't manage to stop the kick to his knee. He cried out and collapsed, but used his momentum to surge forward and tackle the older man to the ground.

Jerry fell with a grunt and Sam wasted no time straddling him and leveling punches at his face. Only the first few landed before Jerry grabbed his wrists and the fistfight turned into a power struggle. Jerry might have been several inches shorter than Sam, but he was heavier and he easily flipped Sam onto his back, slamming his head several times against the ground so hard he saw stars.

Sam felt the man's weight leave him as he fought to get off the ground, his head swimming, trying to fight against the black dots swarming his eyes. He heard a familiar, mechanical click and when his vision cleared again, he found himself looking up at Jerry holding a gun on him.

Sam shook his head, opening his hands. "Please, don't."

"Sorry, kid, but I think this is necessary for all of us," he said.

And then he pulled the trigger.

* * *

 **Yes, I know, another cliffhanger, sorry! :P**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Sam felt fire explode through his middle. He didn't cry out because he didn't have breath to do so, and really, it didn't start hurting until a few minutes later, when the sound of the gunshot echoed away, and then he was only left with a bleeding hole in his gut and a feeling of shock that Jerry had actually shot him.

That's when the pain started in earnest, and this time he did cry out, clutching at the wound, frantically.

"Don't worry, it's not fatal—well, not until you bleed out completely, anyway," Jerry said and Sam looked up at him in shock. "You're bait, kid. You think I'd let your brother find you gutshot out here? Hell no! I'm not an idiot. It's gotta look like something else, or he'll put a bullet between my eyes."

Sam gritted his teeth. "It doesn't matter. Dean will know what you did, you bastard, ahh!" He made the mistake of trying to sit up, but collapsed in agony. Jerry shook his head in mock pity, and bent to riffle through Sam's clothes, taking any weapons he came across. Sam grunted in protest, but was too weak to put up a fight.

"Really, Sammy, I am sorry. I didn't want it to end this way. But this could go a long way to saving the world. One less monster ain't a bad thing. Surely you can agree."

Sam's throat ached at the hunter's words, accompanied by the echoes of Dean's own words in his head: _You blood-sucking freak, you're nothing but a vampire, you're a monster, Sam, I'm done trying to save you._ Rage washed through him. _He was not a monster!_ But there was no use arguing. Jerry was only going to see what he wanted to. "It's Sam," was all he said, but to his shame, it came out in a defeated whisper.

A sound came in the distance. A howl that chilled Sam to the bone.

Jerry heard it too. "Sounds like your brother could use some help. I suppose you don't mind me going off and seeing what all that's about." He bent to pick up Sam's dropped duffle bag and stashed the stuff he had taken off Sam in it. "Funny thing is, it looks like you were right after all, kiddo."

No, Dean and Cas were walking into a trap just like he had feared and he was lying here several miles away, bleeding out from friendly fire. Jerry gave Sam a salute. "For the record, Sam, they'll probably be drawn away by the smell of your blood and leave a perfect opening for us to rescue the hikers. Call it your last good deed. I hope they give you a quick death."

"Jerry! Jerry, don't leave me out here," Sam cried, trying to roll onto his side, but the hunter kept walking and Sam finally collapsed back to the ground, curling into a ball as tears slipped from his eyes. How could he have been so stupid? If he hadn't been so worried about Dean's opinion of him, he might have seen that Jerry was bad news. Now, he really deserved everything that had happened.

He just hoped Dean and Cas wouldn't have to suffer for his mistake too.

* * *

 _Dean still felt the knot of anger inside_ of him as he and Cas hiked through the woods. Why did Sam have to be so difficult? It wasn't like he hadn't been wrong before, why was it so hard to process now? And he'd obviously been so pissed at Dean that he had partnered up with the guy he seemed to hate so much. Dean shook his head. What the hell had he done to his brother to deserve this?

"Dean," Cas spoke after a long seething silence from the hunter. "Perhaps you should go easy on Sam. Everything he's been going through—it's been difficult for him."

"And it hasn't for the rest of us?" Dean demanded. "Look, I'm not the one being a bitch about this. Sam always has his sulking periods, but usually they blow over quicker than this. That's why I'm wondering just how far that stick is inserted in his ass and why."

Cas frowned and opened his mouth as if to make a comment on that, but Dean rolled his eyes and quickly pushed on. "Fact is, he's just gotta figure out that I'm not putting him through crap because I'm angry at him. Yes, I said I didn't trust him, but that's because he spent the better part of a year working behind my back with a demon who ended up betraying him. I think I'm entitled to question his judgment a little." Dean shook his head slightly. "But he also always has a knack for research and nine times out of ten, he's spot on. I really thought he was right on this one too."

"As did I," Cas added. "And I do understand where you are coming from. You feel betrayed by Sam, by what he did working with Ruby. But I also firmly believe that you two will figure out how to work together again. After all, I'm sure you seemed a bit different to Sam too when you came back from Hell."

Dean looked away, a shiver going up his spine. He had been. He'd been jumpy, hardly slept—drank too much even for him. He hadn't felt together. Still didn't. Hell was too raw a memory for him. Deep down, he knew that part of the truth was that he was too scared to have to do this without Sam. He just didn't want to have to do this alone.

"You have to allow Sam to win your trust back instead of just pushing him away," Cas told him. "He knows that he did wrong, Dean. You don't need to keep reminding him of that, he's doing enough of that himself. You just need to be the one to show him that he can do better."

Dean swallowed hard. "I know," he said, and finally some of his anger started to ease out of him, replaced by other thoughts, mostly of worry. Hell, all he really seemed to do anymore was worry about the kid.

Something was nagging at him in the back of his mind too, and he wasn't sure what it was, but he suddenly was uneasy about Sam being out of his sight. Whenever they rushed off and did anything in anger, things rarely went well. Dean started to regret letting Sam go with Jerry, and he didn't even know why. He just had a gut feeling.

"Dean," Cas said suddenly, cutting into his thoughts as the angel halted and looked around. Dean did the same.

"What is it?"

"Listen," Cas said grimly.

Dean furrowed his brow as he listened. "I don't hear any—" It dawned on him then, the pure silence, just like when they had been hiking yesterday. "Aw hell."

"I think we're getting close," Cas said as he looked around. "And I think Sam might have been right after all."

Dean cursed again and pulled out his cellphone, but when he opened it there were no bars. Obviously. "Dammit, okay, well, we can't get through to Sam and Jerry, so I guess we'll just have to do this ourselves."

"Well, without Jerry around, I can use my powers," Cas said, seeming slightly miffed. He pulled his angel blade out. "But let's use caution."

"Don't need to tell me twice." Dean pulled out his Colt and also the flare gun Sam had used the night before. He hoped he could make a better shot this time around. They didn't need to start any forest fires.

He and Cas advanced further in the direction they had been going. It seemed even darker here to Dean, the mountainside looming over them, particularly sheer in this area.

"I'm guessing there might be a cave nearby," Dean said quietly.

"Help!" came a cry up ahead.

Dean and Cas stopped, weapons held at the ready.

"You think that's the wendigo or one of its captives?" Dean muttered.

"They wouldn't keep the captives out in the open," Cas said, adjusting his grip on the blade.

Dean nodded in agreement, and their fears were confirmed when a shadow flashed through the thick undergrowth to their left.

They whipped around, weapons held at the ready.

"Come on, you ugly bastard," Dean muttered, knowing he couldn't risk a shot with the flare gun until he had a good line of sight.

"Dean!"

Cas' shout of warning came a second too late. Dean whipped around, only to be caught with the clawed hand of the wendigo, jumping out from the undergrowth. He flew backwards, hitting the ground hard. He grunted, the air punched from his lungs, as he rolled over, scrambling to regain his weapons.

He glanced up as he staggered to his feet, and watched as Cas was going toe-to-toe with the wendigo. The angel lashed out with his blade and swiftly dodged out of the way of blows in well-practiced, almost graceful maneuvers. Dean knew well enough the angel could fight, but seeing him in combat like this always made him glad Cas was on their side.

But as he finally regained his feet, he caught sight of something off to the right, more movement in the trees.

What the…

"Cas, on your six!" Dean shouted, barreling forward and raising both guns, but he was going to be too late.

Cas stabbed his blade into the wendigo he was fighting and spun just in time to be snatched completely off the ground by a second one that seemed to materialize out of the trees. It snarled and shook the angel so hard, Cas' head snapped back and fourth.

Dean unloaded several bullets into it, and it finally dropped Cas with a snarl before the other one bore down on the angel, holding the angel blade it had pulled from its own chest.

Dean took the shot with the flare gun at the same time as the wendigo stabbed downward. The shot, going wide, at least took the second wendigo straight in the chest but at the same time Dean heard Cas cry out in pain.

"Cas!" Dean leapt forward then, ignoring the wendigo's death cries and shot at the other one's arm, causing it to drop the angel blade. It spun around to face Dean and swiped a clawed hand at him. Dean ducked, catching the swipe across his upper arm. It stung and he cried out, dropping the flare gun. The wendigo struck out again, flinging Dean into a tree trunk.

He blacked out for a second, but came to with a flare of light and another death scream. He cleared his vision and saw Cas crouching on the ground with the flare gun pointed at the flaming wendigo.

Dean shook his head, and forced himself to his feet, heading over to the angel and reaching down to help him up as well.

"Cas, you okay?"

The angel rose stiffly, lines of pain on his face. "I'll be fine."

Dean glanced over the angel's shoulder and saw a long tear in the back of his coat, seeping red, and, more worryingly, whips of bright blue grace.

"Dude, that does not look fine," he reprimanded.

Cas grunted. "I'll heal eventually. Let's go find the hikers."

"Okay, but after that, I'm patching you up," Dean said firmly.

"Same for you," Cas told him with an admonishing glance at his shoulder.

Dean rolled his eyes, but relented. Fair was fair. He reached down for the bag he had dropped when the fight started and pulled out a couple flashlights. "Alright, let's go."

The cave was dark and smelled rank. Like death. Dean felt his stomach churn, suddenly not so sure about what they would find there.

"Hello!" he called. "Anybody in here?"

"Help, please," a weak voice came, followed by another, "Oh god, please help."

Dean glanced at Cas and they hurried deeper into the cave, coming into a large room. The flashlights revealed several figures dangling from ropes. Dean hurried over to the nearest one, a young woman, and put his hand on her jaw, checking her pulse point. Thankfully she opened her eyes at his touch.

"Oh thank god," she whispered, tears sliding down her face.

"It's okay, we're getting you out of here," Dean assured her and turned to Cas. "Cas, help me with the ropes."

Cas sliced cleanly through the ropes with his blade as Dean held onto the girl and then gently lowered her down. They did the same with two other captives and then crouched on the floor to see to them.

"Are the monsters…?" the girl asked, glancing around with wide eyes.

"They're dead, they're not gonna hurt anyone anymore," Dean told her, reaching into his pack for water.

"What were those things?" the only male captive asked.

"Wendigos," Cas answered. "From native American legend. They are the tortured souls of people who turned to cannibalism."

Dean shot him a look as the captives expressed horror.

"It doesn't matter, you're safe now," the hunter assured them again. "Now, are there any other people here?"

"No," the other woman said, her voice trembling. "There were. We're all that's left. My husband…" she started sobbing, and Cas glanced toward Dean with a pained look before he crouched next to the woman and touched her shoulder gently.

"I'm sorry about your husband. Why don't we get out of here? Dean and I will see to your wounds and we will see about getting you off this mountain."

The captives gratefully complied. When they got out into the light, Dean was glad to see that none of them were wounded, aside from a few abrasions he and Cas helped clean up. They were mostly just dehydrated, and hungry, but after passing around water bottles and protein bars, they perked up a bit and looked ready for a—very slow—hike down the mountain.

Dean left them to themselves for a moment while he and Cas took care of each other's wounds.

"This would have been so much easier if I still had my healing abilities," the angel grumbled as he dabbed the slash marks in Dean's arm.

"Don't worry about it," Dean said. "At least you can still fly us down the mountain, right?"

Cas pulled a regretful look as he began to wrap gauze around Dean's arm. "I can't, Dean."

Dean's eyes widened as he spun around to look at the angel, worry gnawing at his stomach. "What do you mean? This isn't because of you being cut off, is it?"

Cas shook his head. "No, it's…this wound. The wendigo wounded me with my own blade. You won't be able to see the damage, but it injured one of my wings. I won't be able to fly, especially with passengers, until it's healed."

Dean's eyes widened. "You said it wasn't that bad!"

"I lied," Cas replied simply and tied off the bandage. "But there's nothing you can do for it."

Dean shook his head, and stood up, motioning for the angel to take his place on the rock. "Well, let me patch it up as well as I can anyway. I'm not gonna have you bleeding out on top of everything."

Cas reluctantly slipped out of his coat and suit jacket, but left the shirt on so the hikers wouldn't see how his wound was glowing. Dean bit his lip as he saw the deepness of the wound, stretching about eight inches long between his shoulder blades. Not bad, his ass.

"Alright, you're good to go, I guess," he said, after butterflying the wound shut and taping gauze over it.

Cas winced as he tried to pull his coats back on, and Dean stepped in to help him. The angel nearly stumbled as he stood and Dean caught his arm.

"Hey, you sure you're good?"

"I will survive a walk down the mountain, I'm far stronger than you think I am," Cas said firmly, with some indignation.

Dean shrugged, figuring he was telling the truth. "Okay, then, let's go."

They collected the hikers and the man motioned to the east.

"There's another trailhead that connects to the highway only a few miles that way," he said. "It's a lot closer than the main one."

"Sounds good, you lead the way," Dean told him, and helped the young girl to her feet, offering her a steadying hand as she started off down the trail.

As they walked, Dean tried his phone again, but there were still no bars. Not that he was surprised, he was just getting more and more worried without knowing where Sam and Jerry were. By now they must have realized they were heading in the wrong direction and had probably turned around, but if so, why had they not met up with them yet?

It only took about an hour to reach the trailhead and the hikers sank down gratefully.

Dean checked his phone yet again. "I still can't call for help."

"It's okay," the man said. "A ranger usually comes by every hour or so."

"Oh," Dean glanced back to the woods.

"You can go," the man said understandingly. "I can kinda imagine you're not too thrilled with the idea of meeting with the rangers. I can take care of getting us back home."

Dean bit his lip but nodded. "If you're sure."

"Hey, you saved our lives, I don't really care how it happened, but I get that you probably don't have time to explain about crazy-ass monsters."

Dean chucked. "Well, you're not wrong. We have to find the rest of our hunting party, but you all stay safe. We'll check on you here on our way out, make sure you get out okay."

"No problem," the man said and shook Dean's hand.

"Thank you," the two women said.

"All part of the job," Dean told them with a small grim smile and then turned to Cas. "Come on, let's go find Sammy."

They retraced their steps, and by then it was late afternoon and still overcast so it looked even darker in the woods than usual. But Dean was pretty confident this time that they had gotten rid of all the wendigos out there. He just wished they had been able to save more people.

They made it back to the original campsite where they had left the camping gear, and Dean looked around, half expecting to see Sam and Jerry waiting there for them, but the place was still deserted.

"Great," Dean muttered, more worry knotting in his stomach. Where the hell were they?

"Dean," Cas finally said, breaking into his thoughts. "Something is approaching."

Dean stopped and looked around, gun at the ready, but it was Jerry who appeared out of the woods.

Dean huffed in relief and put his gun back into his waistband.

"There you are, where the hell have you been?" Dean demanded as Jerry strode up. "We got the survivors all the way down the mountain already." Dean looked around then, frowning as he saw no sight of his younger brother. "Where's Sam?"

"Oh, the kid? We split up early on. He insisted on going his own way. Thought he'd circle back around to you. He's not with you?"

"No, genius," Dean snapped, looking up at the darkening sky. "And why the hell would Sam do that? He knows better than to split up when you're hunting like this, especially when there's no way to reach each other by phone."

Jerry held his hands up. "Hey, don't ask me, I didn't sign up to be a babysitter. I'm sure he'll turn up soon, or you can go look for him yourself if you're so worried."

Dean was about to ream him out more, his worry for Sam manifesting in anger, when he got a closer look at the older hunter in the dim light, noticing for the first time that he had bruises on his face, and what looked like one heck of a shiner.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked.

"Oh," Jerry grimaced and motioned to his face. "Tripped over a damn root and fell."

"Onto both sides of your face at once?" Dean demanded, stepping forward. Okay, something was definitely wrong here. Alarm bells were going off in Dean's head.

"Dean." The hunter felt Cas' hand gripping his arm and he turned with a questioning look, but saw only a dark expression on Cas' face as the angel stared at Jerry.

"What?" Dean demanded, his stomach knotting at the seriousness on Cas' face.

The angel pointed an accusing finger at the hunter. "He has Sam's blood on his clothes."

"He what?" Dean asked coldly, striding toward the hunter dangerously. "Jerry, where the hell is my brother?"

"I don't know!" Jerry held up his hands. "And how the hell would he know whose blood is who's? This is from the tussle with the wendigo last night!"

"Except you weren't wounded," Cas said, crowding toward the hunter as well. "And I do happen to know it's Sam's blood, so you had best tell the truth."

Jerry shook his head with an unbelieving look. "You two are crazy. Let's just go find Sam and get the hell off this mountain."

He turned his back but Dean was already lunging forward. He grabbed the older hunter and slammed him back against a tree, forearm across his throat.

"Alright, you listen to me and you listen close, you son of a bitch," Dean said in a low voice. "You're gonna tell me where my brother is, or I'm gonna _make_ you tell me. And trust me, pal, you don't even wanna know the things I can do to you."

Jerry just laughed, shoving against Dean's arm. "You are insane, boy. I ain't touched your brother."

"He's lying," Cas offered.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said and pulled his gun out instead, cocking it and holding it under Jerry's jaw. "So I'm gonna ask you again: Where is Sam?"

Jerry clenched his teeth in a sneer but let out a sigh, all pretense of innocence gone. "Look, Deano, I just did what you, what your daddy, didn't have the guts to do."

Dean felt dread pool in his stomach. "What the hell does that mean?"

Jerry snorted, shaking his head. "You know well enough that this apocalypse wouldn't have started if Sam had been dead. And sure, it might be too little too late, what with him sucking demon blood and all, but at the very least, someone has to pay for what happened. And your brother, well, even you can't deny he's pretty much just another monster."

Ice and fire washed through Dean's veins at the same time as he slammed Jerry back against the tree, hitting him across the face with the butt of his gun. "What did you do, Jerry? Did you kill him? Did you _kill my brother?"_

Jerry paused for too long, and Dean hit him again. "Tell me!" he screamed.

"He was still alive when I left him," Jerry said.

Dean hit Jerry across the face once more, throwing him to the ground. He leveled the gun at the hunter as Jerry pulled himself into a sitting position with a groan.

"Where is he?" Dean demanded.

Jerry grunted and spit out a gob of blood. "Couple miles west of here."

"Good enough," Dean snarled, cocking the gun.

"Dean, what if he's not telling the truth?" Cas stepped in, putting a cautionary hand on Dean's arm. "Perhaps you shouldn't kill him yet."

"Oh trust me, I'm not gonna," Dean said in a dangerous voice that almost scared even him. "I'm just gonna make sure he doesn't run away." He lowered the gun and shot Jerry right above his left knee.

The hunter screamed and collapsed to one side, clutching his leg. Dean quickly holstered his gun, and turned to his pack, digging into it until he found some rope. He frisked Jerry and relieved him of any weapons he had on him before he dragged him up and slammed his back against the tree trunk.

"Now you just sit tight so that when I do find my brother— _alive—_ I can come back and finish what we started." He yanked the ropes tight and then slammed his fist into Jerry's face, breaking his nose with a resounding crack. Then finally brought his foot up and slammed his heel into his bullet wound.

Jerry howled, and Dean picked up his bag, striding past the whimpering man. Everything in him was screaming at him to use the methods Alastair had taught him to make Jerry sorry. To take him apart. But that wouldn't help Sam. If his brother was out there, hurt, then Dean needed to be with him right now, not wasting time with that dick, no matter how much he deserved to be torn apart.

Dean was shaking hard, and he finally had to stop for a moment to close his eyes and take a breath.

"Dean, are you all right?" Cas asked.

"Oh, god, I'm such an idiot," Dean groaned. "I should have listened to Sammy. He knew this guy was bad news. He probably called us out here to get to Sam all along."

"Dean, all we can do now is find Sam," Cas told him.

Dean took another deep breath and felt a little steadier, determination coming back to him. "Then let's go."

He strode off into the darkening woods, each moment getting more and more anxious about what he would find at the end of his journey.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

" _Sam."_

Sam floated in darkness and slowly opened his eyes. There was nothing around him, just black.

 _"Hey, Sam."_

Sam spun around and pulled up short as he saw Lucifer standing there behind him.

"Stay away from me," Sam demanded, taking a step back, but it didn't seem to matter in the void.

"Hey, I'm just here to help," Lucifer said. "You do realize you're dying, don't you?"

Sam felt a wetness on his side, accompanied by a persistent ache and looked down, seeing blood soaking into his shirt, welling up from a bullet hole in his stomach.

"I'm not dead yet," Sam said firmly.

"But you will be soon, you're bleeding out," Lucifer said matter-of-factly, coming closer to him, hands held out placatingly. "Come on, Sam, you know where this is going to end eventually anyway. You may as well save yourself many painful hours and say yes now."

"No," Sam said firmly. "I told you I would never say yes to you. I stand by that."

Lucifer shrugged. "Well, suit yourself, kiddo. But gut shots…yikes. They take an awful long time to die from. Lots of pain. And trust me, Sam, the minute you die, I'm gonna be right there waiting for you, waiting for you to tell me something. And this little defiant game you like to play? All those hours of agony will have proved nothing."

Sam glowered at him. "Yeah, well, I've gotta die first," he said and spun away, dragging himself out of that dark void.

* * *

 _Sam gasped awake with a jerk_ , instantly regretting it as he felt his body sing with agony. He let out a strangled sob and curled around himself even more.

He looked around and realized he was still in the woods, memory flooding back painfully.

"Dean," he croaked instinctively before he remembered: Dean wasn't there. He had been angry with his brother and refused to go with Dean, and how he was paying the price.

Sam felt tears leak from his eyes. It was all his fault for pushing his brother away. Maybe Dean didn't trust him, maybe he believed Sam was a monster like he had said before, but that didn't mean they couldn't start over. And Sam saw now that it was his fault their new start had been going so badly. After all, he hadn't really been trying.

He tried to push himself up onto his elbows but only got part of the way before agony ripped across his abdomen. He gritted his teeth and looked around. The woods were a lot darker now and he realized he must have been unconscious for hours. He glanced down and saw a patch of red sticky leaves under him, realizing how much blood he had lost.

He was suddenly sick to his stomach and wondered if that was from the sight of the blood, or from shock setting in from blood loss. Maybe both.

Biting his lip against the pain, he rolled onto his back, and with trembling fingers, peeled his shirt up, craning his neck to look at the wound. It was mostly scabbed over now, but at this point, he'd already lost so much blood, what little was left inside of him was hardly enough anyway. Still, he shifted and grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, and pressed it against the bullet wound. He keened in pain and lay there for a few minutes, just panting.

Maybe, just maybe, if he found a branch he could use as a walking stick, and if he could _get_ himself to his feet, he could start to make his way back toward the camp. Dean might go back there to look for him. But he'd have to bandage his wound first.

He gripped the already ruined t-shirt he was wearing, now crusted with blood, and ripped with all his strength. That motion forced him to use his stomach muscles though which caused them to spasm and his wound to flare in pure agony. He screamed and nearly blacked out. Worse, he felt a warm trickle move down his side and knew he had opened his wound again. Okay so maybe moving was out of the picture. He would probably just end up losing the precious amount of blood he had left and bleed out before he got twenty steps.

Despair filled him then. Maybe, Dean wasn't even coming for him. Maybe he had been killed by the wendigo and was lying in pieces somewhere else in the forest. Maybe Cas was too, though Sam wasn't sure even a wendigo could kill an angel. But if he had been wounded badly enough, he might not be able to get to Sam either. Not in time.

More tears slipped out and he felt so weak. Maybe he was just fooling himself. He shuddered as he thought of his dream. He was going to die and Lucifer was going to come for him, and he had a feeling that by then, it wouldn't matter what he said. He wouldn't have any options to refuse. And if that was the case, then he couldn't afford to die, because that would be defeat. And despite everything, he just wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.

He stilled as he heard footsteps through the woods and fear chilled him to the bone. Maybe he was already dead. Maybe Lucifer was coming for him. Coming to claim his vessel.

"No, please," he whispered as the footsteps got closer, accompanied by two different voices. "I'll never say yes."

Then the footsteps began to pound louder as if running, and Sam distinctly heard his name being shouted. But not by the Devil, by someone who gave him the strength he needed to pull himself back from teetering on the edge.

"Sammy!"

Sam cracked his eyes open and tears of relief spilled from them as he looked up and saw his brother skidding to a stop and falling to his knees beside him. There was the feel of the familiar, rough hand clasping the side of his neck, and despite everything that had happened between them, Sam knew he was safe now that his brother was here, just as he always had in the past.

"Dean," Sam breathed.

* * *

 _Dean's stomach was in knots_ as he and Cas hurried through the woods. He could not believe he had let this happen. He had been so stupid to let Sammy out of his site, and now his brother might be…

No, Dean couldn't bring himself to say that. But even if it wasn't the worst case scenario here, he had still allowed his little brother to go off alone with some bastard who meant him harm. And now, the thought of Sam lying out there in the woods _alone,_ in pain, and possibly bleeding out, made him furious at himself more than anything.

"Dean, we'll find him," Cas said in assurance, seeming to be able to feel Dean's anxiety.

Dean said nothing in reply. There was nothing else to say. All he wanted was to find his brother.

Dean spotted the lump on the ground first and he halted.

"Cas," he hissed, almost not daring to hope at this point. It had started drizzling again, dampening everything and bringing an extra chill to the mountain forest.

The angel stopped beside him. "I can smell fresh blood. Human. It's Sam's."

Dean swallowed hard, and staggered forward, jumpstarting his body into motion again. "Sammy?" he called hesitantly then as the shape took the form of a gangly young man with too-long hair, Dean picked up the pace and ran the last few yards. "Sammy!"

He collapsed, skidding to a halt on his knees beside his brother and reached out a shaking hand to press against his throat, waiting without breathing for the pronouncement.

"Dean…" Cas didn't finish, standing to one side of him.

Dean felt the thready pulse under his fingertips and huffed a breath in relief. "He's alive. Sammy, come on, open those eyes." He clasped his brother's neck, shaking him just slightly as his eyes moved over Sam's body angrily, cataloging the damage that bastard had done to him.

And then finally, Sam's eyes cracked open, wet around the edges as tears spilled out.

"Dean," he whispered.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, Sammy. You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna get you patched up, and we're gonna get off this goddammed mountain. Get you into a bed, okay?"

Sam let out a choking whimper that ended in a sob. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Dean cupped the side of his face. "Don't. You don't need to apologize. It's not your fault. And for the record, you were right, kiddo. About the hunt, and about Jerry, that damn bastard." He clenched his jaw again at the thought of the man, and was glad he had left him with a bullet in the knee. It was all he deserved.

Sam didn't say anything, but Dean thought there was some relief in his face. "Glad you're safe," Sam whispered.

Dean almost gave a wry laugh. Of course the kid was more worried about him even though he was lying out in the woods in a pool of his own blood.

"Okay, Sammy, just hold on for a sec and let me look at you," Dean said and carefully turned to the bloody spot on Sam's shirt, peeling the material aside. He found a wadded up handkerchief there that was already soaked through and lifted it aside to see the damage.

He bit his lip as he saw the bullet wound. Gut shot. Deliberately, too, as Jerry would have had plenty of time to put another bullet into Sam once he had him down if he had missed the first time. No, the bastard had wanted him to have a slow and painful death. Dean didn't think he could be more pissed. But right now, Sam needed him and he couldn't work properly if he was angry.

"Okay, okay, you've obviously bled pretty bad, but it doesn't look like it hit anything vital," Dean gave his brother a smile and patted his knee. He stood up then and turned to Cas.

"We need to find more shelter. It's getting dark and it's too wet out here in the open."

Cas looked around. "We left the tents back at the campsite to pick up on the way back. But…I may be able to fashion some sort of cover." It went unspoken between them that they couldn't afford to move Sam right now. They had to get his would situated first.

Cas went into the woods and Dean glanced back down at his brother, for the first time realizing what would happen next. He'd tried to put it from his mind, but it was inevitable. If he was going to save Sam's life then he was going to have to dig that bullet out himself.

Just the thought nearly made him sick on the spot. How the hell was he going to be able to do that? Maybe once he could, but now…

His hand was already trembling and he was startled as Cas called to him.

Dean touched Sam's hand gently and shrugged his jacket off to lay over him to try and protect him from the drizzling rain as much as possible. "I'll be right back, Sammy," he said and got up, going to join Cas and grab the pine boughs he had collected.

Between them, they managed to rig a sort of lean-to over Sam. Thankfully it continued sprinkling but hadn't really started raining in earnest yet. Unfortunately though, it was almost completely dark by the time they had finished.

Dean grabbed camp lanterns out of his bag and set them up, taking the flashlights out and keeping those close to hand too.

"Dean," Cas finally said. "Sam needs medical attention."

"I know, Cas," Dean snapped, before clenching his fists. "I just…I need a moment."

He glanced over at Sam seeing his brother was unconscious again and took a deep, steadying breath. He'd taken bullets out of Sam and his dad before. This wasn't anything he couldn't do, though he hadn't had to handle a gut shot before, and the bullet wound, though not initially fatal, couldn't be more than a couple inches from Sam's aorta, and if he accidently nicked that while digging around for a bullet? With Cas unable to heal him or fly him to a hospital Sam would bleed out in seconds.

"Alright, let's do this," he said to himself, letting that breath out slowly. He set up the lanterns to provide as much light as possible and Cas crouched on Sam's other side, glancing at Dean.

"Let me know what I can do to help," he said. "I regret I am not…practiced with such crude healing methods, but I will do what you need me to do."

Dean nodded and motioned to his bag. "Okay, um…grab the med kit in there then. It's the metal box with the red cross on it." He reached out and peeled Sam's shirts back as carefully as possible, then began to undo his belt, tugging it gently from the loops.

Sam shifted with a wince. "Dean."

Dean shot him a wan smile. "Don't worry, kid, not getting fresh with you. Just giving myself more space to work. And you might want this." He folded the belt in half and offered it to his brother.

Sam took it in a shaking hand. "Dean, I just want to tell you I'm sorry for—"

"Stop," Dean said firmly. "None of that."

"I just want to in case…"

"You're not gonna die, Sam, not on my watch," Dean said firmly, gripping Sam's shoulder tightly. "I'm just gonna patch you up and then Cas and I will carry you off this mountain. Do you trust me, Sam?"

Sam's face creased with emotion, and Dean watched his jaw tremble as tears slipped from his eyes. Finally he gave a jerky nod. "Yeah. I trust you, Dean."

"Then believe I'm gonna get you through this," Dean said, briefly sliding his hand up to clasp the side of Sam's neck and then turning back to the wound. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and called to Cas for the flask in the bag and soaked the cloth with the liquor. He used it to clean the wound and the surrounding area. Sam flinched and made several uncomfortable noises but didn't move.

"Cas, can you give me a little more light?" Dean asked and the angel held one of the flashlights directly over Sam's wound. Dean doused his hands with some of the whisky before he finally reached out to prod the bullet hole, trying to see what he was dealing with.

Sam whimpered as Dean pulled the ragged lips of the wound apart. It didn't look big enough to work with, but…Dean wanted to avoid having to open it further if at all possible.

"Alright, I'm gonna try for it like this," he said and nodded to Cas. "I need the forceps—yeah, those."

He found his hand was trembling as he took the instrument. The forceps glinted in the light from the lanterns and Dean suddenly got flashbacks from Hell that he didn't need right now. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Okay, get ready, Sammy," he said.

Sam had already put the belt between his teeth, and Dean hoped he wouldn't stay conscious much longer anyway. He took a steadying breath and slipped the forceps into the wound.

Sam instantly tensed, a strangled yell escaping past the belt. His hands clutched at the ground, fingers digging into the leaves and dirt. Cas reached out to hold him down with one hand while he continued to hold the light for Dean.

Dean meanwhile was just trying to find the bullet but he knew the truth as soon as he had put the forceps in. The wound have been left too long, had already started to clot. The bullet could have moved too, and Sam was tensing too much for him to have any leeway to move.

"Shit," he hissed as he gently pulled the instrument out of the wound, leaving Sam to groan and fall slack.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Cas asked, glancing at him.

"I'm gonna have to open it up more to see what's going on," he said, bile rising in his throat. "Give…give me the scalpel."

Cas sorted through the box of supplies and handed the small blade to Dean. Dean reached out for it, and as the cold metal hit his palm, a wave of unwanted memories crashed over him as well.

 _Alastair pressing the shiny razor into his hand as he stood over the wide-eyed soul strapped to the rack._

 _"It's easy, Dean," the demon's sibilant voice whispered into his ear. "Cuts like butter, and I know that soon you'll learn to appreciate the screams."_

"Dean?" Castiel's voice cut through his flashbacks and Dean shook himself, snagging the flask of liquor to sterilize the blade. He turned back to Sam lying prone and trembling, body covered in sweat despite the cold air. Dean settled one hand on his hip to hold him still and brought the blade toward the wound. He pressed the tip in, feeling the easy give of flesh and the flinch of Sam's muscles.

 _Cuts like butter, Dean. Feel all the little twitches they make, the way their body responds—that's how you know it's working._

He couldn't.

Dean reeled back, throwing the blade to the ground and staggering to his feet. "I can't," he choked out and spun around, walking off into the dark woods before leaning against a tree, pressing his forehead to it to focus on breathing. All he wanted to do was vomit.

"Dean!" He heard Cas' voice as if from far away and was vaguely aware of the angel coming to join him a few seconds later. "Dean, what's wrong with you? Your brother is bleeding out in there! The more you prolong this the longer he will suffer!"

Dean spun around. "I can't do it, Cas!" he cried, reaching up to clench his hair in his fists. "I can't cut him open, I just can't."

"Why not?" Cas demanded.

Dean swallowed hard, unable to meet the angel's eyes. "Because all I can see when I pick up a blade is some poor bastard strapped to a rack. All I can hear is Alasdair egging me on, training me how to inflict pain. I don't know anything else anymore. Hell broke me, Cas."

The angel's eyes were sympathetic, but he still put a firm hand on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, I understand how hard this is for you, but you need to do this now, or he could die."

"Why can't you do it?" Dean demanded.

Cas shook his head helplessly. "Dean, I know nothing of human medicine, you are…you're so fragile. When I heal with my grace I am fully attuned to the body and the injury on a molecular level. But this…I would likely only do more damage."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a hand to his mouth for a long moment. He didn't know how he was going to do this, but Cas was right—he knew he _had_ to.

"Dean," Cas said softly. "You're the only one who can do this."

Just like stopping the apocalypse. Dean remembered Cas telling him that as he lay in a hospital bed after Alastair had beat the crap out of him, and he had thought the angel was insane to believe in him like that. He still did. But this wasn't the apocalypse. This was saving Sammy. This was taking care of his little brother, just like he had always done, and just like he would do until the day he died.

Dean took a shuddering breath and braced himself. "Alright. You're right." He strode back to the lean-to and knelt beside Sam. His brother's eyes opened slightly, and he fumbled with the belt in his mouth for a second before taking it out.

"D'n? Y'okay?" Sam whispered.

Dean forced a smile and reached up to smooth the hair off Sam's sweat-covered forehead, not liking how clammy he felt. "Don't worry about me, Sammy. Everything's gonna be okay, remember?"

Sam gave him a watery look and sunk back, closing his eyes again.

Dean swallowed hard, and took several deep breaths to keep his hands from shaking so much. He glanced at Cas who was waiting for him to give any orders.

"Just…get some gauze, try to keep the site of the wound clean so I can see what I'm doing," Dean said.

Cas nodded and Dean picked up the scalpel again, sterilizing it. He took a sip from the flask himself, and felt his hands steady just slightly. The heat of the liquor going down his throat brought him a little bit of clarity, and he took it.

This time as he set the scalpel at the ready, he just went for it, but when Sam tensed and yelped, he was right back in Hell.

But he felt a hand on his left shoulder, digging into the spot where Cas' handprint scar was, and he was brought back to reality.

"Dean," Cas said, speaking quietly but firmly. "You can do this. You're not in Hell, you're saving your brother."

Dean bit the inside of his cheek to bleeding before nodding. "Okay."

Cas wiped the spot of the wound, keeping his other hand anchored on Dean's shoulder.

"Now that you have the wound open, you need to take the bullet out," the angel coaxed.

The monotone instructions, so different from those Alastair gave him, were just what Dean needed to anchor himself. He gratefully put aside the scalpel and took up the forceps again, slipping them into the widened bullet wound.

Sam flinched and tensed, moaning past the belt in his mouth as every line of his face twisted in pain.

"Cas, keep talking," Dean pleaded, feeling bile rise in his throat.

"Just focus on finding the bullet, Dean, I'll take care of Sam," Cas said. "Let me clear the area for you." His hand left Dean's shoulder for a second to swipe the area clean, and then he turned to put his hand on Sam's forehead. "Relax, Sam, just close your eyes."

Amazingly, Sam's body went slack, his eyes rolling up into his head as he murmured slightly. Dean glanced up and Cas shrugged.

"I didn't put him completely out so we could monitor his vitals better, but he will be less aware of what is happening."

Dean nodded gratefully as he angled the forceps again in an attempt to find the bullet. How deep could the damn thing have gone?

"How are you doing?" Cas asked him, swiping the wound site again.

"I can't find it," Dean gritted out. He angled the forceps and Sam flinched, giving a soft whimper. The bile surged up Dean's throat again but he swallowed hard, forcing himself to concentrate. Forcing his hands to stop trembling.

"Dean, just focus, you can do this," Cas said quietly.

Dean breathed through his nose, trying to steady himself. And then finally, he hit something metal with the tip of the forceps.

"Okay, okay, I think I got it." He bit his lip, closing his eyes as he angled the forceps. He couldn't see it anyway, and this would heighten his sense of feel. As soon as he had the bullet he pulled it out.

Sam tensed and cried out as Dean pulled the bullet from him and tossed it angrily aside, breathing heavily. Cas was already pressing gauze to the wound to stop the bleeding. Dean turned his focus on his brother and gently removed the belt from his mouth, pushing back sweat-soaked hair.

"It's okay, Sammy, we got the little bastard out, only need to stitch you up now."

This he could do in his sleep. He took the suture kit and put in enough stitches to keep the wound closed and then he sat back on his heels, trembling.

But then he realized that the adrenaline rush he'd had previously was wearing off, and shock was setting in, and he still had his brother's blood on his hands, and that was all his stomach could take for one night.

Dean staggered to his feet and stumbled several yards from the lean-to before he fell to his knees and started vomiting. It seemed like once he started he couldn't stop, even though he'd run out of anything _to_ throw up a few heaves ago. And then also, to his shame, he realized there were sobs escaping his throat along with the retching and tears streaming down his face.

After a while he felt a hand on his shoulder and knew it was Cas.

"Sam is okay, Dean, you did it."

Dean just let out a sob, of relief or a million other emotions, he didn't really know, and wiped his face on the back of his sleeve. Sam's blood was still on his hands, and he almost retched again, before Cas pressed a wet cloth into his hands and Dean gratefully scrubbed the blood off, just focusing on breathing.

Once he was done, Cas got a hand under his arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Come, you need to rest."

Dean stumbled alongside the angel and shook his head. "I can't. Sammy…"

"You can," Cas said firmly as he shoved Dean into a sitting position under the lean-to, next to his brother who Cas had covered with a blanket from the pack. "I'll watch over you both."

And it turned out that Dean was just too wrung out to argue with an angel about anything that night. He slumped down onto his side next to Sam, using his duffle bag as a pillow. He reached out, one hand settling on his brother's arm, and as he closed his eyes, he heard a rustling of fabric as something settled over him. Then felt a soothing hand on his forehead.

"Sleep, Dean," Cas' voice said from far away and Dean suddenly found himself unable to do anything but.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay guys, we've got to get the boys out of here! Only one chapter after this one :) Thanks to everyone who has read, followed, and reviewed so far!**

Chapter Six

Sam groggily came out of his unconscious state. For a moment he couldn't remember anything, and then he shifted slightly and pain lanced through his middle and he knew exactly where he was. He groaned, squeezing his eyes in discomfort and then forced them to open.

Grey light came into view, along with the smell of fresh rain and pine needles and dirt, and as he looked up there was a canopy of pine branches tied together in some kind of makeshift roof.

Sam groaned slightly and turned his head to the other side, seeing another figure lying only a foot from him. Sam instantly recognized Dean's tussled head resting on top of his green duffle bag. His brother was curled on his side, seeming to be sleeping soundly, Cas' trench coat draped over him, and one hand reaching out toward Sam.

A soft footstep sounded to his other side and Sam looked over, slightly startled to see the angel crouching down under the lean-to with a questioning look.

"Sam, how are you?"

Sam tried to expend enough energy to reply, but his mouth was so dry, it took a few long seconds. "Not great," he rasped.

Cas seemed to think of something and reached over him to pull a water bottle out of a pack, cracking it open and then gently propping Sam's head up so he could drink. Sam sipped some of the water, just enough to ease his dry mouth and throat and then pulled away.

"Pro'bly shouldn't drink t'much," he croaked.

Cas settled his head back down and Sam closed his eyes again, even the simple act of drinking wearing him out completely.

He felt the angel watching him with a frown and then Cas reached out to touch his forehead, closing his eyes as if concentrating on something. Sam frowned, but was too weary to question him.

"You lost a lot of blood," Cas said as he pulled his hand away. "I believe your body is suffering from shock."

"M'not doing well," Sam answered truthfully, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. He could feel his body shutting down. He knew he couldn't just heal out here without real medical attention. He glanced over at Dean, making sure he was still asleep before he turned back to Cas, knowing his eyes showed his fear.

"Cas, I can't…" he swallowed hard and tried again. "When I got shot, I passed out and… and Lucifer, he came to me when I was unconscious. Said that…" He tried to stop his jaw from trembling so he could finish, and then realized he was trembling all over. "He said that if I died, I would be his. He said that there would be nothing I could do unless I said yes."

Cas reached out and squeezed his shoulder, a determined look on his face. "I will not let that happen, Sam. I will never let him take you."

Sam felt a tear squeeze from his eye, but he nodded gratefully to the angel.

Dean stirred then, groaning slightly as he pushed himself upright, casting a confused look at the trench coat covering him. Then he saw that Sam's eyes were open and instantly scooted to his side, leaning over him.

"Sam, Sammy, how are you doing?"

Sam didn't reply, simply closed his eyes with the comforting feeling of Dean's familiar, rough hand on his cheek. That way he didn't have to see the worry in his brother's eyes.

"Dean, we need to get him to a hospital," Cas said grimly.

Sam opened his eyes just as Dean returned his concerned look to him, and tried to look a little stronger than he felt but obviously failing because Dean's face went two shades paler.

"Alright," Dean shook himself and turned to start packing stuff up. "Okay, then let's go. Cas, we're gonna have to make a litter to carry him."

The angel nodded and slipped away. Dean turned to Sam and forced that typical smile that Sam knew was utter BS. "Just a little bit longer, Sammy, and then we'll be down that mountain."

Sam would have snorted if he'd had more energy. But Dean was already out there helping Cas form branches into a makeshift litter. And Sam was feeling himself slipping away again. He shook himself slightly, not wanting to fall unconscious now, afraid he would never wake up. Or that he would, and it would be Lucifer's face he saw instead of his brother's.

He startled as something landed beside him and realized he had drifted off while waiting after all, and fear surged through him anew. He glanced up to see Dean and Cas standing over a litter and carefully dismantling the lean-to so they could more easily get him onto it.

Dean took off his coat and laid it out over the litter.

"Well, it might not be the nicest ride, but I think it will at least hold together," Dean commented and turned to Cas. "Help me?"

Instead of lifting Sam awkwardly between them, Cas simply crouched, slid his arms under Sam's knees and shoulders, and lifted him as if he weighed nothing, settling him gently onto the litter.

"Thanks," Dean said, then bent and tucked the blanket back around Sam before patting his shoulder. "Just hang in there, Sammy. And let us know if you're in too much pain, okay?"

Sam nodded slightly, already almost too tired to keep his eyes open anymore, but he stubbornly blinked back the encroaching unconsciousness and whatever possible horrors lay beyond.

Dean and Cas each took up an end of the litter after Dean had slung his bag over his shoulder and then they started off on the long trek down the mountain.

"Hang in there, Sam," Dean said again, looking down at him.

Sam really hoped he could.

* * *

 _Dean was worried by Sam's unresponsiveness_ , the way his eyes were open, but they didn't seem to be seeing anything, and how clammy he felt whenever he checked on his temperature with a hand to the forehead. Dean knew Sam needed blood, hell, if he'd had a transfusion kit, he might have already tried that. But at the moment, there was only one way off this mountain, and it was a hell of a long way down. If Dean ever had to go out in the woods again, it would be too soon.

That was when he heard it. Or rather, _didn't_ hear it.

Cas seemed to notice at the same time he did because they had been walking for almost an hour and then all of a sudden the forest had gone dead silent again.

"Dean," the angel said grimly, and slowed until they had stopped. "Something's not right."

Sam's eyes came open, probably disturbed by the lack of motion. "What's wrong?" he croaked.

That was when they heard the gut-wrenching scream that went on for nearly a minute before it was cut off with a wet gurgle.

"Holy crap," Dean muttered. "You think we missed one?"

Cas looked at him grimly. "Dean, we have to take care of this."

Dean bit his lip. Part of him just wanted to take his brother and run, but the other part of him knew it was his job to finish a hunt—after all, that had gotten them into a whole heap of trouble in the past.

"Dean," Sam said. "You have to."

"Alright, well, let's get somewhere a little safer to put you down."

They hurried along until they came to the spot they had set up camp. Where he had left Jerry tied to the tree.

That was when it hit him.

"Oh, um…"

Dean glanced toward the spot he had left Jerry, and saw the hunter—or, what was left of him. His throat had been torn out, as well as his insides—those were lying in a pile between his feet. Eyes wide with terror looked up unseeingly and despite himself, Dean felt nausea wash over him.

"Well, good riddance," he muttered.

He and Cas settled Sam's litter down and the angel strode over to inspect the corpse, cocking his head to one side.

"It is a fitting end, in my opinion," Cas said darkly and turned his back on the dead hunter in dismissal.

Dean shrugged in agreement. Kept him from having to stain his conscious by putting a bullet in the guy's head. But they had bigger things to think about now.

A rustle in the trees reminded him right quick.

He and Cas moved to stand over Sam, Cas with his angel blade, and Dean with the flare gun again. As he checked it he cursed as he saw he only had one flare left.

"Well, I only got one shot," he said to Cas.

"You had better make it a good one then," the angel replied grimly, as he spun his blade in his grip. "I'll distract it."

"Dean," Sam's breathy voice caught his attention and he saw his brother was pointing to the left.

Dean and Cas both spun in that direction just in time to see the wendigo fly out of seemingly nowhere.

"Get down!" Cas shouted.

Dean crouched swiftly, angling his body over Sam's as he heard the wendigo land more than felt it. They were eerily light creatures, thin with the starvation they always felt.

Cas was running at it already, blade raised, and Dean got ready for an opportunity to take the shot. Cas scored a hit to the wendigo's side and it screeched and lashed out. Cas dodged the swipe, but didn't miss the kick that the wendigo followed after it, which sent the angel sailing several yards backwards into the trunk of a tree.

"Dammit," Dean muttered. "Hey, ugly!"

He raised the gun, but thankfully didn't fire, because the wendigo dodged to one side, skittering up a tree and dropping back down behind Dean. It swatted him before he could turn completely around, throwing him backwards to slam into a tree and lose his grip on the gun.

He was stunned from the blow, and tried to haul himself up, shaking his head to clear it when he heard a "No!"

His vision cleared to see the wendigo standing over him with one clawed hand posed to strike. Dean raised an arm instinctively, but knew it would do little good. He was probably going to end up with his guts on the ground in a second just like Jerry.

He saw Cas scrambling to his feet, but he wouldn't get there in time. Then out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam hauling himself into a sitting position, the flare gun held in his shaking hand.

"Duck!" his younger brother cried.

Dean desperately launched himself to one side as Sam shot. The flare hit the wendigo in a burst of fire and the monster screamed and thrashed before it exploded into a pile of ash.

Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and scrambled to his feet, rushing toward Sam who had collapsed back on the litter. Cas was at his side in an instant as well.

"Sammy," Dean said, reaching out and taking the flare gun from his brother's limp hand. "Thanks."

Sam smiled slightly. "Saved your ass. As usual."

Dean's face broke into a grin, as a warmth spread through his chest. Sam's sass was like music to his ears after so long of him just pretty much ignoring Dean.

But the feeling wore off almost instantly as Dean took his brother in. Sam was pale, breathing in short, shallow bursts, cold sweat beading on his brow.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, reaching out to press his fingers to Sam's jaw, feeling for a pulse. It was thready and fast.

"Dean," Sam grunted, a hand coming up to rest on his stomach. "I—I don't…"

"Dammit," Dean muttered, running a hand through his hair. He reached down to pull Sam into his arms, cradling him against his chest. "Sam, just hang on, you hear? Just stay awake."

"Dean," Cas said grimly. "He needs a hospital now."

Dean turned desperately toward the angel. "How's your wing?"

Cas bit his lip. "It's going to have to be fine."

Dean felt some regret at making Cas fly hurt, but they didn't really have another option. It was eight miles down to the trailhead and Dean knew with a certainty that Sam wouldn't make it that far, especially being jostled on a litter. He grabbed one of Sam's hands in his, sick with how cold it was. He squeezed it.

"You just hold on, little brother," he said.

Cas put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam, just fight it." Dean glanced at Cas and then angel turned back to him and grabbed his shoulder too.

"It might be a bumpy flight," he said apologetically.

Dean held onto his brother tighter, and then they were whisked into a vortex as Cas flew them off the mountain.

They appeared in a dizzying landing outside the doors of the local emergency room. Dean fought to keep his stomach from heaving, but he didn't really have anything in there anyway considering all the vomiting he'd done the night before.

Sam was completely unconscious, some blood soaking the blanket he was still wrapped in, and Dean took his face in his hands. "Sam. Sammy?"

He glanced up frantically, and saw Cas on his knees beside him, hands braced against the ground, looking pale.

"Cas?" Dean asked.

"I'm good," the angel grunted. "It wasn't as bad as I anticipated." He climbed to his feet a little shakily and glanced down at Sam. His face turned even a shade paler. "On your feet, Dean. We need to get him inside now!"

Dean jerked into action, grabbing Sam's upper body as Cas took his legs and the two hurried inside the emergency room with their precious cargo.

As the hospital staff took over and loaded Sam onto a gurney, hurrying him away and shouting all kinds of stuff Dean didn't understand, he could only wonder if he would lose his brother after all. And worse, it would be his fault for not protecting him like he should have.

* * *

 _Sam couldn't help it;_ he just couldn't keep himself out of the darkness for another second. He slipped and fell for a long time into nothing, before he heard the voice again.

"Hello, Sam. I told you we would meet again."

Sam gasped, and scrambled to his feet, realizing he had been lying flat on his face. Lucifer stood in front of him, a knowing smile quirking up one corner of his mouth.

"No," Sam shook his head, backing away. "No."

"I told you this is how it would be, Sam," Lucifer said with a shrug. "What do you really have to lose? Everyone already thinks you're a monster—even your brother. How did he put it? 'Blood sucking freak'?"

Sam felt a dagger in his heart at the words from that voicemail, and he glanced away, swallowing hard. "He was angry."

"Yeah, but he still meant it," Lucifer said. "And you know it. Sam, come with me. We'll be powerful together. Unstoppable. We were meant to be together. It's your destiny, Sam." He held out his hand as if he expected Sam to take it.

Sam didn't want to, but his body had other ideas. It was tired, giving up, and maybe Sam was done fighting too.

"I can give you peace, Sam. You don't even have to watch the end. You can just stay in there, in your own corner of your body with whatever happy little story you want to make up for yourself. And before you know it, it will all be over. How's that?"

Sam couldn't stand anymore, so he fell to his knees. A tear slipped down his face. Why did he want to give up? He couldn't actually want this, could he?

Lucifer was right in front of him then. "What'll it be, Sam?"

Sam felt another presence like an itch in the back of his mind.

"Leave the boy alone, Lucifer."

Sam glanced up at the familiar voice and saw Cas standing at his shoulder.

"He is not yours and he never will be," the angel stated firmly.

"Castiel, really, you know can't stop me," Lucifer said with some amusement.

Cas' only answer was to grip Sam's shoulder and draw him to his feet. A little energy surged through him and he turned to glower at Lucifer.

"Get out," Sam said firmly. "I said it before and I said it again. I'll _never_ say yes to you."

The devil snorted, but seemed to take the hint and disappeared.

Sam turned to Cas, tears of relief pooling in his eyes. "Thank you."

"I told you I wouldn't let him have you," Cas said sincerely then reached out and touched Sam's face. "Now, rest, Sam. I will watch over you. He will not be back."

Sam felt himself floating away. As Cas disappeared, so did the darkness, changing to a cool, comforting light, and Sam surrendered to it, finally letting go for the moment to do as his friend said: rest.


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay guys, this is the last chapter where all the reconciliation and feels happen finally :)**

 **So next week I have kind of a strange but hopefully fun story that I am going to start posting. It's a pseudo crossover/parody and that's all I'm going to say for now. I will start posting that next Friday but I might have a one-shot up before then, it just depends on how much time I get to write this week.**

 **Thanks again to everyone who read, followed, and faved this!**

Chapter Seven

Sam drifted out of the warm light eventually, becoming aware of his surroundings before he fully committed to waking. He knew he was in a hospital because there were the steady beeps of machines and the bed was just slightly uncomfortable, and the sheets a little less scratchy than the typical motel. Plus the smell of alcohol—clinical grade stuff, not the kind that accompanied Bobby's house—not to mention the uncomfortable feeling of wires and tubes attached to him.

Then he heard voices and felt bodies shifting nearby as if moving closer to him.

"Cas?"

"He's waking up."

"Sammy?"

Sam had to open his eyes then after hearing his brother's voice because he knew Dean wouldn't leave him alone until he did and at this point, he was really just hoping to go back to sleep, maybe with another dose of the morphine he knew he was on.

He blinked his eyes open and focused on his surroundings. The first thing he saw was Dean hovering over him, leaning over the bed. His face was drawn and looked horrific, weary lines that told of worry and sleeplessness.

"D'n," Sam slurred.

Dean closed his eyes in relief and sank back into the chair that was sitting by the bed. "Thank God." He rubbed his hand over his face, before settling it on Sam's arm as if needing the physical contact.

"M'okay," Sam tried to assure his brother, frowning. Yes he'd gotten shot, but he didn't know why Dean seemed so surprised and relieved that he was waking up.

"Well, you weren't," Dean snapped. "You crashed by the time we got you here—they had to jump start you! Twice! If Cas hadn't stepped in when he did, we may have lost you anyway."

"Dean," Cas walked around the bed then to settle a cautionary hand on the elder Winchester's shoulder, but Sam's memory was already flowing back. He remembered killing the wendigo and then it was all darkness.

Until it wasn't.

He had almost said yes to Lucifer. He'd been so exhausted that he had almost lost himself. Dean was right, if Cas hadn't come in—dream walked or whatever—it might not have been him who woke up on that table. It might have been Lucifer himself.

Sam shuddered and turned his head away, swallowing hard. Apparently he still wasn't strong enough.

Dean seemed to see his distress though, and he calmed down, squeezing Sam's arm slightly before he ran a hand over his face, wearily. "You scared me, kiddo," he said in a softer voice.

"M'sorry," Sam murmured, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Look," Dean sighed. "I know we got a lot to talk about, but not now. You just…work on getting healed up. You ready for another shot of morphine?"

Sam sighed and lolled his head in a nod. Dean reached over and pressed the button, twice, and Sam felt the rush of welcome fuzziness wash over him.

"Don't worry, after we're sure you're stable, I'll break you out of here."

Sam nodded again, but his eyes were already sliding shut. Though even the morphine couldn't keep away the sense of foreboding he felt.

Dean was right. They had a lot to talk about.

* * *

" _Alright, easy."_

Sam gritted his teeth as Dean maneuvered him into the motel room and toward the closest bed. Sam was already exhausted by the time he collapsed onto it, and groaned as he pressed a hand to his bandaged middle. Yeah, he knew he shouldn't be out of the hospital yet, but they couldn't really stay, not with all the questions the doctors wanted answered, not to mention the fake insurance. Besides, he was kind of glad not to be around strangers, in a place they could ward properly. He was still shaken up from Lucifer's visitations, even though Cas had assured him that with the sigils he had carved into Sam's ribs, the Devil wouldn't be able to find him, unless he specifically told him where he was.

The angel closed the door behind him as he followed them inside with their bags, setting them on the small table, while Dean fussed with Sam's pillows and tucked the blanket over his lap.

"Okay, there we go, you comfy?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam sighed, exhausted already, but there was a heaviness hanging over them, and Sam knew that now that they were in private, Dean was going to broach whatever subject he'd been wanting to this whole time.

Then, came the inevitable inhalation of breath as Dean geared himself up for the conversation. "Sammy, look, I know it's been rough the past couple months, but, I know you know that we can't keep going like this, man. We can't separate from each other like this. I mean, look what happened to you." Dean motioned to Sam's stomach, and the younger man clutched a fist in the blanket, pulling it a little higher.

"I know," he said, jaw clenching. Of course Dean was going to put his foot down again, exert his authority, just like he always did. Because he still didn't trust Sam to make good decisions. And at this point, he was probably right.

Dean sighed as he sat down on the opposite bed. "And for that matter, how the hell did Jerry even know about you? I mean, hunters talk, yeah, but who knew about this besides us and Bobby? And you know Bobby isn't going to tell anyone about stuff like that."

Sam looked down at the ugly pattern on the bed cover. "When um, when I went off on my own, Bobby called these hunters into the town I was staying in to look into apocalypse omens. They got jumped by demons and I…I guess during the fight, one of them spilled about me. One of the hunters got killed and they came after me, tried to make me drink demon blood—use me as a weapon." Sam shuddered and hugged his arms around himself. "I guess they spread the word. Put a hit out on me."

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean cried, running a hand over his face. "Why the hell didn't you mention this before? Especially when I agreed to go on a hunt with someone we hadn't seen in years?"

Cas shot him a cautionary look and moved to join the conversation, sitting on the end of Sam's bed.

"I didn't think it was important," Sam muttered, though knew he should have said something.

"Not important?" Dean demanded. "You almost died, Sam!"

"Yeah, and I broke the world too, so that's probably all that I deserve."

Dean shook his head, making a frustrated sound in his throat. "You know, I don't believe you, sometimes."

Cas furrowed his brow. "Sam you shouldn't say that; of course you don't deserve to die."

"Well, what else am I gonna do than inevitably say yes to Lucifer?" Sam demanded. "And then I'll break the world for good."

"Oh, that's it," Dean growled, getting up to pace before spinning back around to face Sam. "I have had it with you and your defeatist attitude, and the moping emo crap. Are you really gonna take what some asshole like Jerry said to heart?"

"What do you want me to say, Dean?" Sam said, exasperation taking over. "It's not like he was wrong; I really am just a monster."

"No, you're not," Dean replied wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well that's not what you said before," Sam snapped back, beginning to shake as everything was finally coming out, and he was finally confronting his brother about what he'd had pent up inside this whole time. "You're the one who called me a 'blood-sucking freak' first!"

Dean spun around to look at him at the same time Cas turned an accusing look at Dean. "What? What are you talking about?"

Oh, so he was going to play innocent. Sam snorted. "It's okay, you don't have to deny it. I already know what I am."

"Dean," Cas admonished.

But Dean only looked bewildered. "Sam, seriously, what the hell are you talking about? When did I ever say that to you?"

Sam clenched his jaw. "How can you just drop something like that on me and forget about it? You really don't remember? That voicemail you left me? Before I broke open the crypt to kill Lilith?"

Dean was staring at him with a blank expression. Sam glowered and nodded to the bags. "Get my phone."

Dean gave an exasperated look and went to riffle through the bags to grab Sam's cell. He handed it to the younger man and Sam's hand trembled with emotion as he found the voicemail and put it on speaker.

He closed his eyes, unable to look at his brother as the words filled the room.

" _Listen to me, you blood-sucking freak, Dad always said I'd either have to save you, or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam, a vampire; you're not you anymore, and there's no going back."_

When it had finished, Sam was unable to keep the wetness from his eyes as he finally glared up at Dean. "See? Why bother denying it?"

But Dean just looked horrified, glancing between the phone and his brother. Cas was leaning forward, equally stunned.

"Sammy, I never said that," Dean forced out finally. "I did leave you a message, when the angels nabbed me and had me waiting in the wings for the big fight. But I _never_ said that. How could you even think…?" He turned around, unable to finish his sentence.

"Sam that wasn't Dean," Cas spoke up, eyes suddenly cold. "There's angelic feedback on that message. I can only assume that Zachariah corrupted Dean's original one."

Dean ran his hands through his hair, obviously distressed and upset at what he'd heard. "Sam, I called you to apologize. To talk you down from the edge. Please tell me this didn't—" He couldn't seem to finish the thought, but Sam knew where he was going and he looked down, unable to meet his brother's eyes. Not wanting to admit that Dean was right. The thought that his brother believed he was nothing but a monster, that he didn't believe in _him_ , kind of did make up his decision in the end.

"Oh god, Sammy," Dean breathed. "And you…you had this on your phone the whole time? Why the hell didn't you say anything? Confront me, at least? I've been trying to figure out what's been eating you and you've just been keeping this bottled up!"

"You still said you didn't trust me," Sam said quietly. "So I thought…I just didn't think there was any point."

Dean sighed heavily and sank down on the side of Sam' bed, facing him. "Sam, look, it's been rough, lately, and yeah, the thing with Ruby, that was messed up. But you know that, and I know you know what you did wrong. Maybe…maybe I was projecting my own feeling of betrayal too, onto you, and that wasn't fair. But Sammy," he reached out and gripped one of Sam's wrists tightly, and Sam finally met his brother's eyes. "You know that we're better together. Stronger. And trust does go both ways, man. We'll get back to where we were, eventually, I know we will, but you've gotta let me in too. We certainly can't afford to keep things from each other."

Sam wet his lips and glanced down again for a long moment before he looked back up at his brother. "I know. And I'll try if you will."

Dean offered a soft smile and reached up to squeeze the side of Sam's neck, the comforting gesture giving the younger hunter a little bit of warmth. "We both will. Together." He stood up then. "But right now you need to rest. You need another dose of the good stuff?"

Sam wanted to protest, afraid Lucifer would come back in his drugged stupor, but his wound was a sharp pain emanating from his center, so he gave in, and nodded.

Dean had made sure to take some 'complimentary' morphine before they busted Sam out of the hospital and he went to retrieve it then and drew a syringe. Sam offered his arm resignedly and felt the effects of the drug working on him. He sank back into the pillows and was vaguely aware of Dean pulling the blankets tighter over him.

"Just rest, kiddo," he said, swiping a hand over Sam's forehead almost subconsciously.

Before Sam allowed himself to slip into sleep, his eyes sought out Cas with one pleading look. The angel offered him a look of reassurance and stood to touch Sam's shoulder gently.

"Don't worry, Sam, I won't let him near you on my watch."

"Thanks, Cas," Sam whispered as his eyes slid shut and with that assurance, he allowed himself to sleep.

* * *

 _Sam woke again the next morning_ , and though he still felt stiff, and slightly loopy from the morphine, he at least remembered where he was and what had happened this time.

"Good morning, Sam."

Sam glanced over to the other bed and saw Cas sitting there as if he had been watching him. He might normally have been a little unnerved with the idea that someone, even someone he knew, had been watching him sleep, but right now he was only relieved. Knowing that Cas was his only guard against Lucifer.

"'Morning," Sam mumbled, glancing around the room. "Where's Dean?"

"He's outside making a call to Bobby," Cas told him and strode over to the table to grab a bottle of water before bringing it back. "I assume you are thirsty."

Sam nodded and allowed Cas to help prop him up slightly so he could drink. His hand shook but he only spilled a little water on his blanket. Cas sat down at his side and reached into his pocket.

"Sam I…I cleaned up the message Dean left for you," the angel said, turning Sam's phone over in his hands. "I thought you might like to hear it."

Sam almost said no, that it didn't really matter now, but something inside his head told him to listen to it. That if he didn't, he was afraid he might always have a little doubt that Dean had left that message after all.

He held out his hand and Cas handed him the phone. Sam pulled up the voicemail and listened:

 _"Hey, it's, me…uh…look, I'll just get right to it. I'm still pissed and I owe you a serious beatdown, but…I shouldn't have said what I said. You know, I'm not Dad. We're brothers, you know, we're family, and, uh, no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. Sammy I'm sorr—"_

The message cut off before Dean could finish his apology, but Sam didn't need to hear it in full. He already had tears in his eyes. All this time, he'd been pissed at Dean, when he'd missed his apology all together.

"Oh god, I can't believe I…" Sam covered his face with his hands, and felt Cas grip his shoulder tightly.

"Sam, you can't blame yourself. Zachariah manipulated you for his own purposes."

"I know, I know," Sam forced out and turned his wet eyes on the angel. "But Dean, he never really said the things I thought he did. And I…I can't believe I actually fell for that!"

Cas shook his head with a sympathetic look. "Sam, what's done is done. You can't change the past. You can only try to make the future better."

Sam nodded and scrubbed at his eyes. "Yeah. You're right. Cas, thanks for letting me hear that."

The angel smiled and nodded. "You're welcome."

The door to the room opened then to Dean finishing up a conversation with Bobby on the phone as he slipped inside.

"Yeah, we'll be there tonight, gonna take it a little slow—You know I always look after him, Bobby. Alright, see ya soon."

He ended the call and turned around, seeing Sam's eyes opened, and gave a subconscious shrug. "Caught Bobby up on everything. He's pissed at me for letting you get shot."

Sam allowed one side of his mouth turn up in a half smile. "I bet."

Cas stood from the bed. "I'm going to go and add those extra sigils to the car."

"Thanks Cas," Dean said. "Just…not on the paintjob, buddy."

Cas gave him a slightly longsuffering look, before he turned and closed the door behind him.

Dean went over to his bag, open on the bed, and tossed a dirty shirt into it. "We'll leave when you're ready—unless you want another day of bed rest."

Sam shifted slightly in the bed, wincing at his wound pulled, but shook his head. "No, I'd rather get back to Bobby's."

Dean nodded and Sam started to pull his blankets back, attempting to swing his legs over the side of the bed, but Dean put a stop to that quickly enough, and probably for the best, considering that Sam couldn't get halfway there without gasping in pain.

"Whoa, easy there, tiger," Dean chided, hurrying over and gripping Sam's shoulders to steady him. "You're not going anywhere without help. I'm not gonna do those stitches again, now that the hospital put in professional grade ones."

It suddenly dawned on Sam that Dean had taken the bullet out of him in the forest. In all the trauma that came later, he'd almost forgotten. But Dean obviously hadn't. Even his joking tone couldn't hide the haunted look in his eyes.

And it made sense. After what Dean went through in Hell… Sam had seen what torturing Alastair had done to his brother, he couldn't even imagine what this situation had brought up.

"Dean," Sam said quietly, reaching out to grip his brother's sleeve. "I never thanked you for what you did."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked nonchalantly, but he knew, and he didn't meet Sam's eyes.

Sam gave him a sympathetic look. "You know. Look, I'm sure it wasn't easy but…"

"Don't," Dean cut in, but his voice was quiet, a slight waver in it, as he finally turned to meet Sam's gaze again. "Sam, you're my brother. There was no way in hell I was gonna let you die up there. You know I'm always gonna do everything I can to save you."

Sam swallowed hard, his eyes wet for the second time that morning, and he finally nodded. "I know. And…you know I would do the same, right?"

Dean hesitated just a second, looking into Sam's eyes as if to gauge whether he was telling the truth or not, and Sam held his breath, afraid that Dean was just going to go back to not trusting him, despite their conversation the night before. But he smiled genuinely instead. "Yeah, I know, Sammy. I know you always got my back."

"Well, someone has to," Sam said with a soft snort. "Because in case you hadn't noticed, you can be kinda reckless."

"Who's the one who got shot again?" Dean demanded.

"And who's the one who saved your ass from that wendigo? _With_ a hole in my gut?"

"Okay, Rambo, I'll remember that for next time. You're more than welcome to go on a hunt solo and I'll just sit back and relax."

"Oh, so business as usual then?" Sam snarked, cocking one eyebrow.

Dean huffed a laugh, and shook his head. "Bitch."

They both caught their breath at the familiar nickname. Sam couldn't even remember the last time Dean had called him that. He felt his brother's eyes on him, and for a split second he looked like he was worried he had done something wrong. But Sam just smirked. "Jerk."

Dean's shoulders slumped and he let a breath out. One that sounded like he had been holding in for a lot longer than just those few seconds.

The door to the room opened then and Cas walked back in, breaking up the moment.

"I added extra warding to the car. It should keep it off the radar of angels and demons alike," he said.

"Great, let's get going then," Dean said.

Cas turned to Sam with a smile. "You look better, Sam," the angel said sincerely.

Sam offered him a small smile. "I feel better," he said and realized it was true. He glanced at his brother, and for the first time in a long time, he actually thought that they might be able to get back to what they once were. Back before everything had gotten so complicated and they were just brothers.

"I'll load the bags if you have Sam," Cas said and went to pick up the packed bags from the table.

Dean nodded and went back to the bed to help Sam up. Sam grunted, and pressed a hand to his wound, but Dean took most of his weight, and steadied him.

"Hey, Sam," Dean said as they waited for Sam to adjust to being upright. "Don't stop back-talking me again, okay?"

Sam frowned, but was unable to help a small smirk. "Wow, you really just put your foot in your mouth with that one."

"I'm serious," Dean replied. "I miss your snarky little know-it-all attitude. The snappy come backs, the eyerolls. Even the bitchfaces."

"The what?" Sam demanded.

"Everything you haven't been doing for the last couple weeks," Dean told him. "I need your help to get through this, and I can't have someone who's just gonna sit there and mope when I try to bounce ideas off of them. I need you there to argue with me when I'm gonna do something stupid, and especially to help with the research."

Sam rolled his eyes—that should make Dean happy—but he did kinda get where his brother was coming from. And frankly, he would be glad to go back to his old self. Now that he knew he didn't have to tiptoe around Dean—and the fact that he'd ever thought that he did was really ridiculous—he was sure everything would go more smoothly too.

"Promise?" Dean demanded.

"Yes, Dean, I promise," Sam told him. "But it's you who's gonna regret it."

Dean chuckled. "Probably, but what the hell, you're my little brother, it's your job to be a pain in my ass."

Sam smiled too, as Dean tightened his arm around him to maneuver him out the door.

"Hey," he said sincerely. "We're gonna get through this. We're gonna stop the whole damn thing, ice the devil, put the world back the way it should be. And no one's gonna dictate who we are, or what our destiny is. Only we can do that."

Sam nodded. He still wasn't sure how easy it would be to beat destiny, but for the first time, he was willing to believe that they could, as long as they kept faith in themselves.

They made it out to the Impala where Cas was waiting, and Dean maneuvered Sam into the back seat, which he'd apparently set up with extra pillows and blankets they had stolen from the motel room. Sam didn't even say anything though, because it was pretty damn comfortable and it was a long drive to Sioux Falls. He was already pretty exhausted just from walking out to the car too. It was going to be a while before he got back into the fight.

"Alright, let's get," Dean said and strode around to the driver's seat after making sure Sam was settled. Cas got in the passenger side as Dean put the keys into the ignition.

Sam closed his eyes as the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine filled his ears and became a comforting lullaby for him to fall asleep to.

No matter what was on the horizon for them, Sam knew in that moment that, as long as they faced it together, they had a good chance of winning.


End file.
